


Infinitude of Space

by iluv2eat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cats, Empaths, Intrigue, M/M, Original Universe, Psychics, Romance, Space Opera, Spaceships, Talking Animals, Tarot, psions - Freeform, sentient intelligence, space travel, telepaths, vaguely East Asian themed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 141,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluv2eat/pseuds/iluv2eat
Summary: Hadrian wakes from stasis in a remote space station, without knowledge of who he is or how he got there. He soon encounters Antony, a figure who claims to be from his past and offers to help Hadrian regain his memory. Yet sometimes what is forgotten is better remaining that way, particularly when it involves a star-spanning conspiracy and a murderous android on the rampage.In a universe where powerful psychics and sentient computers hold together a fractured polity, Hadrian must team up with Antony to figure the secrets locked within — and to decide whether to trust him, even as he confronts his own feeling and complicated past with the man.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

He woke in the cold void of space.

For a moment, he was suspended in nothingness. He could neither touch or smell nor hear – only see a vast blank of white that blinded him.

It disoriented him, filling him with a panic that choked the very air from his lungs. 

He fought to relax. To force, through some deep reflex, for himself to loosen his muscles and let the tension pass through him as water through a sieve. 

Gradually, as his senses returned to him, Hadrian felt his body again. Was space always this solid? 

No, that was not right. He was in a sparse chamber that appeared sterile and clinical. As his vision focused, Hadrian took in the polished chrome of the room. A light hung directly above his face, shining directly into his eyes. He blinked.

His eyes still watered, though the sting had dulled somewhat. Now he could see that a beeping monitor stood in the room, connected by wires to his pod. 

What was he in? It was reminiscent of a life capsule, and he was surrounded on all sides by thick metal walls cold to the touch. It curved at the top, finishing to an elegant point. 

He was lying on his back in the coffin-capsule. His awareness gradually unfolded to encompass an icy numbness in his extremities even as his body warmed. He could see visible puffs of air when he exhaled. 

His heart beat in a clear drumroll while his ears caught the clicks of machinery and footfalls and low murmurs. 

His hands had recovered to the point where he could feel again, as blood slowly renewed its flow. He flexed experimentally and touched — his face, chest, his shoulders. 

His human body. 

He pushed himself upright — and was hit with vertigo that threatened to pull him back down again. Loud beeps sounded as he clenched his teeth. Running footsteps entered the room. 

Only when the first person came in did he realize he was completely naked. 

He shivered and wrapped his arms around as the heavy-set man in a white coat handed him a shirt. 

“Thanks,” he said through chattering teeth, pulling it over his head. The shirt was composed of rough fabric, pressed together from disparate pieces rather than woven or sewn. These were the type of clothing that those who lived in extreme poverty on the edge of the known galaxy wore. 

He frowned. How did he know that? It hurt to think. Lancing pain shot through his head when he tried to remember how he came to be here, the events prior, even his name. 

“Sir?” The man’s face furrowed in concern. “How’re you feeling?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was dry; he licked his lips, running his tongue along the cracks. 

“Water,” he croaked. He coughed. It hurt to talk. His vocal cords stick together from disuse. “I need some water.”

Someone handed him a glass. He gulped, greedily, the water splashing on his front. 

“Thank you.” His throat wetted, he looked around. Then, cautiously, tentatively, he asked: “Where am I?”

The worry on the man’s face deepened. “You don’t remember anything at all? Nothing?”

He shook his head. There was another sharp flash of pain at the sudden movement. “I – no. I don’t.” His head throbbed and his entire body ached. “Nothing.”

The man frowned. “Well, let me start by introducing myself. I’m Darren Tsang, the Chief Scientist and Medical Officer on this space station. You are on Station X12, otherwise known as the Huang Station, in the —"

“In the Hsing Quadrant,” he interrupted. He recalled marking it on a star map long ago – but when? And why? What was so remarkable that he remembered that fact when nothing else came to mind. Now that he was fully conscious, he recognized this chamber as a medical bay, and the machine still beeping resolutely as a health console. But it was several years out of date, and he had no idea how long it had been since he – he woke up. 

The medic looked pleased. “You do recall something! Do you remember anything else? Your name, to start?”

He rubbed his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. And I don’t. My name –” he paused. What was his name? He thought hard, trying to sift through the haze of pain that accompanied the action. “Hadrian,” he grinded out finally. “My name is Hadrian.”

“Hadrian, huh?” Tsang looked at him thoughtfully. “Interesting name …. Do you have a surname, by any chance?”

“I don’t see what’s so interesting about it,” Hadrian said. “Other than it’s my name. And the only thing I can remember about myself right now. As for my surname – no, I don’t.”

“Hmm.” Tsang drummed his finger on the health console. “It’s highly irregular for one to remember their own name but not their family name. Unless ….” He looked hesitantly at Hadrian. “It’s highly irregular,” he finished finally.

Hadrian looked at Tsang, irritated. “Do you think I wouldn’t tell you if I knew?” he demanded. “Not sharing it is tantamount to admitting I’m an outlaw.” 

He saw his point hit home. 

“My apologies,” Tsang said, though a hesitant curiosity remained on his face. “We’ve just been on edge lately here in the station. And you must admit, not revealing your full name is highly suspect, not to mention illegal.” 

Hadrian frowned. That sounded familiar, though he could not name the source of unease that came with such a bald statement of fact. 

“It’s been illegal several years now,” Tsang said, interpreting Hadrian’s expression as confusion. “It’s been that way by the edict of the Preceptor, that no habited space are allowed to harbor anyone without full knowledge of their identity.”

The Preceptor …. For some reason, that sense of unsettled disquiet increased at the mention. Hadrian resolved to delve into this later – Tsang was already suspicious enough as it was. He had no doubt it would increase if Hadrian professed ignorance of what appeared to be basic facts. 

Hadrian instead inclined his head. “I understand. I would be happy to cooperate as soon as possible.” If his memory ever returned.

He left that sentiment unsaid, though both men looked at each other as though they had heard it loud and clear. 

“It’s likely that the prolonged stasis sleep has damaged your memory,” Tsang said finally. “I’ve heard it happen, though I have to confess I have never seen one that managed to keep a body in so well a condition as yours.”

“Stasis?” 

Tsang nodded. “Your pod – it’s a stasis capsule, though it’s a design I haven’t seen in a long time. We found you floating in space when our scouts detected a foreign signal.”  
“Oh.” Hadrian had no idea why that happened. In fact, his entire head filled with nothing but foggy confusion and pain; he knew nothing about who he was or how he had ended up in a stasis capsule, let alone how he came to be on a space station in the most desolate quadrant in the galaxy. “I – I’m not sure what happened.”

“Well,” Tsang sat on the edge of Hadrian’s capsule, adopting a sympathetic manner, “I’m assuming that this is a life pod of some sort, and that you were a passenger on some ill-fated ship.”

A strange emotion tugged at Hadrian, one that was alien to his own mix of bewilderment and exhaustion.

Suspicion. 

It cut through the cloud in his head, ringing strongly in a clamor that threatened to overwhelm him. Who was this man that happened to be in a stasis capsule in a design he had never seen, built out of expensive military grade material and decorated with elaborate designs that appeared to be older than the Protectorate? And what of those items that had been in the capsule with him –

Block, Hadrian thought. He took a deep breath and exhaled, allowing the foreign thoughts to crash and recede, like waves against a promontory. He directed a look at Tsang.

“I’m not deliberately trying to conceal anything,” he said, mustering as much sincerity in his voice as he possibly could. “I honestly don’t remember much. And even if I meant any harm, I wouldn’t be able to do any damage, with my physical state right now.” Hadrian gestured at the health console. “That should tell you all about how weak my body is right now, shouldn’t it?”

Tsang relaxed marginally at Hadrian’s logic. Hadrian felt the distrust mute, though it still lingered, underlying the surface of Tsang’s gaze. 

“And I seem to remember that there were also two items in my capsule with me, wasn’t there?” Hadrian continued casually. He watched Tsang carefully. “They’re very important to me, so if you could return them, it would be very much appreciated.”

He was bluffing. He certainly had no idea what those two items where, though if they had been with him in the pod, Hadrian must have placed great import on them to bring them along. Only that faint spark of – what? Premonition? Intuition?– that had allowed him a glimpse into Tsang’s mind alerted him to the fact that he had not traveled alone. 

Tsang produced two objects from the folds of his coat and handed them over to Hadrian. One was a pack of worn, wafer-thin crystal cards that was cool to his touch. Hadrian flipped through them: The Fool, The Empress, The Tower, Seven of Sabres….

“Those are Ta’lo Tarots,” Tsang said, eying Hadrian. “They’re used by psions for precognitive readings. And we also found this.”

It was a small platinum disk pendant on a long thin silver chain. Hadrian took them in his hands. It shone in the light, catching and refracting as it laid cool against his palms. There was a sense of familiarity, of homecoming, as Hadrian held it. Unlike the cards, it was warm, almost as though it pulsed with life. On it appeared an intricate geometric pattern of zigzagging lines. He turned it over, thumbing the grooves of the incisions. It was smooth against his finger.

He obeyed a sudden urge to slip the necklace over his head. It felt … right, for want of a better word, on him, the weight comforting and barely noticeable. 

“I think I’ve seen that before,” Tsang said. His voice was carefully devoid of inflection. Once again, Hadrian caught a surge of wariness that was not his own, accompanied by an interest that bordered on the academic. “It looks like a Familiar Core.” 

Familiar Core – Hadrian tried to sift through the recesses of his mind. “Those are the brains of spaceships, am I right? They’re basically what allow ships to function in deep space.”

“Only for the sentient ones,” Tsang replied. “The ones Bonded to psions.”

Now knowledge returned to Hadrian in a flood. Psions, with the ability of understanding other people’s emotions and memories, had unique neural structures allowing them to communicate with sentient spacecrafts called Familiars. This connection formed the linchpin of modern interstellar civilization. 

Tsang narrowed his eyes. “You’re a psion, aren’t you? That’s how you remembered you have these two objects when you don’t even remember your surname. It also explains why they’re in your possession. I’ve worked with psions and Familiars before – I know a Core when I see one.” He gave a wry grin. It was apparent to Hadrian, who had only known the man for less than an hour, that this was a rare occasion. “It was … memorable.”

Hadrian rubbed his head. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.” He wanted to deny Tsang’s guess; secrecy would allow him to keep an advantage, especially when he had so few to speak of. But it seemed – churlish – to lie to a man who had by all appearances saved his life. Not to mention holding any information back left Hadrian at a disadvantage. “I suppose I am. I did catch a – flash – of what must be your emotions and memories earlier.” He cocked his head at Tsang. “Do you really think I’m a threat?”

Tsang paused. His eyes scoured Hadrian’s face. “These are uncertain times,” he said after a beat. “I don’t really, or I wouldn’t have recommended we wake you from stasis. But you do understand the entire circumstance surrounding this is extremely … odd.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” Hadrian grumbled. His eyes met Tsang’s. Now that he was aware of it, he could feel the other man’s emotions pressing, almost like a physical touch. There was still that cautiousness, but also an inquisitiveness about Hadrian – and, surprisingly, concern for him. 

Hadrian inhaled and raised his mental shields. His head hurt enough without others crowding it. 

“I’ll try and be as forthcoming as I can,” Hadrian said finally. “Though I believe you are in possession of all the facts I know about myself.” 

He looked around. There was a woman, in the same set of white lab coat as Tsang, standing patiently by the doorway. She acknowledged him with a shy movement of her head. She had been listening to their exchange quietly, taking in their words without a bit of commentary. Hadrian felt a spark of appraisal as she looked him up and down, the first psion she had ever met in her life, her gaze widening with a more -- personal – attentiveness as it slid down. 

He blushed, abruptly reminded that he was still half naked. “I think I need to freshen up,” he added, in an embarrassed tone. “That is, if you don’t intend to keep me in this capsule until I remember everything.”

“Of course not. Mei Mei, can you go fetch a spare uniform? It’ll be in my office. Quickly now.” Turning back to Hadrian, Tsang said, “It’s a small colony, and your addition will definitely be noticed. We could always use another hand to help, and the others won’t like the idea of a stranger living off of our limited charity.” It was a command despite the words being wrapped so courteously. 

“I understand.” Hadrian had no objections. It would give him an opportunity to investigate the station. He knew he ended up here for a reason. It was impossible for him to have drifted here without having this place, or somewhere nearby, as his goal; in the infinitude of space, there was no coincidence. “I don’t intend to be a burden. I understand how difficult working on a space colony can be.”

Tsang looked relieved. “We’re only a small outpost, here mostly for research and observation. Our last supply shipment came a few months ago. They only come once a year for us to restock. Otherwise, we’re self-sufficient. Do you know if you have specialized skills? Other than your psionic abilities. Although having a psion is useful, we don’t have a use for that type of ability on the station. We can probably think of other ways to use you, however.”

Hadrian shook his head. He knew he had no choice but to admit his abilities to the scientist. But the entire station? It was too risky, particularly now that he had decided to use his stay to investigate. 

“I’m not confident of my control,” he said, settling on the most acceptable reason he could come up with. “As you can see,” he raised his arms, “I’m not in the best condition here. And it wouldn’t be presumptuous of me to think that your facilities lack any support in case I get driven mad by the onslaught of emotions.”

“Very reasonable.” Tsang stood as Mei Mei entered the room, holding a set of uniform in her hands. Hadrian saw that it was of better quality than the shirt he wore, though not by much. Evidently Tsang had not been lying when he described the station as remote and limited in resources. 

“For you,” she said bashfully, handing it to him before Tsang could take it. “I think it’ll fit. I looked for one that looked to be about your size.” She blushed.

“Thank you,” said Hadrian, grinning at her. “Your observation does you credit.”

Her blush deepened. “If you need anything, sir, just let me know. I’m Mei Mei, the assistant medical officer.” 

“Of course, Mei Mei.” Hadrian gave her a little bow that somehow managed to be gallant despite him still sitting in the capsule, with the spare uniform draped over his lower half to preserve his modesty. “I will definitely seek out your service should I feel I am in imminent peril.” 

“You won’t be in any imminent peril,” Tsang said tartly. “This space station might not be much, but it’s definitely sturdy, and we won’t be assigning you any difficult tasks until we can ascertain your fitness.”

“I understand,” Hadrian said quickly. He winked at Mei Mei. “But you know, if I faint unexpectedly, you’ll have to be the hero to rescue the damsel.”

Tsang scowled. Mei Mei hid a grin.

~~

Huang Station was a small settlement that, from what Hadrian could tell, was the only one in this part of deep space. It was awe-inspiring, in a lonely way, for him to stare out the floor-to-ceiling plexiglass wall exposing the stars. Flickers of light winked at him, embedded in a black so deep it appeared velvet. There was a kaleidoscope of color from a nebula that appeared so close it seemed he could touch it if he could reach through the glass. Winking lights flashed, small and fiery. It took his breath away. He was reminded of how small and insignificant he was in to this vast cosmos. 

Hadrian thought it was funny, how objects so that appeared so small were actually some of the largest in the galaxy. He was in the central spire of the station, at what was considered the ‘top’ level, overlooking the rest of the structure. The outpost itself was a long cylinder in the center of a rotating wheel connected by four spokes. Hadrian could see the chrome of antennae protruding and the liquid shimmer of the solar sails that powered the station. He lifted one foot experimentally. The gravity was still foreign to him; Hadrian assumed it must be a combination of having been suspended so long in stasis and his body being used to the heavier weight of his forgotten home world.

“You must be the psion we fished out of space,” the station administrator said, sitting with his back to the panorama of constellations. He was a thin, dour-looking man, with a thin slash for a mouth. “I have the report from Dr. Tsang regarding the circumstances which you arrived on the station. You are sure you recall nothing of how you came to be in this quadrant?”

Hadrian restrained himself from making a snappy retort. He had already gone through this with Tsang. He did not want to undergo this interrogation again. And he could tell, even without his psionic ability, that the station administrator, Yao, was an unpleasant sort of fellow. 

“I understand being in suspended animation can affect the body and mind in odd ways,” Hadrian settled on an even tone to his response. “I hope that hard work on your space station can help me recover my memories. I would be happy to assist in any way you see fit.”

Yao searched Hadrian’s face. Hadrian could sense the probing aggression that accompanied the examination. 

Hadrian had been correct in what he told Tsang – Darren, as the man insisted Hadrian call him. He could not control his ability; memories and emotions from others barraged him at odd moments when he needed his focus the most. Like now.

“You understand this is highly irregular,” Yao said. “We’re a civilian settlement, but we adhere to the laws of the Protectorate. All persons must be registered and recorded with their full personal details, including their surname. You have provided none. We can’t have outlaws on the station.”

Hadrian caught a spark of agitation under the bureaucratese. He narrowed his eyes. He had been brought relatively up to date with the limited information provided by the databank in the console Darren had lent Hadrian. The Imperial Protectorate governed most of settled space and claimed the rest, barring the few outlaws and criminals that chose to live outside its rule. The role of the Protector, the titular ruler, was empty; in its stead, the Protectorate was governed by the Preceptor, a psion reputed with abilities far beyond what was considered ordinary. Even for other telepaths. 

Through conversations with the others, Hadrian had gleaned that the Preceptor’s edicts had grown more restrictive as his rule continued, and even on this distant outpost, they still chafed. He wondered if Yao’s nervousness were related to some sort of unrest among the rest of the crew. There were only a few of them, totaling in the hundreds, and Hadrian knew the officers were outnumbered by a factor of ten to one. 

Darren had mentioned something too, he recalled. Something about the entire station being on edge….

There was a soft cough. Hadrian dragged his attention back to Yao. 

“It’s only temporary,” he said to the bureaucrat placatingly. “I’ll let you know as soon as they return. Darren told me that he’s combing the databanks for anything that might help.”

Yao pursed his lips. “I suppose that’s the best we can do for now. And of course, we need all the help we can running this station.” He looked at Hadrian up and down. “I think I do have a task for you.”

“What is it?” Hadrian had a sense of foreboding that came from Yao’s words. “I would be happy to assist you in any capacity I can.” He had no choice. Until he was more in control of the situation, he was stuck here, under Yao’s authority. 

“There’s been a series of deaths on the station,” Yao said. “We’ve tried repressing the details of it, but there’s no preventing such news with such a small group. Any empathy or psionic ability will be a great boon in assisting us clear up the matter.”

“What are the details? Accidents? Faulty equipment? Lack of supplies?”

“No. Murders.”

Hadrian stared at the man. “You’re not serious. Murders?” 

Yao gave Hadrian a cold look. “I assure you, I would not joke about such a matter. They’re unsettling my crew. We can’t have productivity slowed by this.”

“Or anyone else becoming victims,” Hadrian could not help but point out. 

Yao gave him an irate look. “Of course. That goes without saying. We need all the hands we have to maintain this station.”

The man behaved so callously about the death of his crew that if he weren’t so concerned with the station’s output, Hadrian would have betted that he was the killer. 

“What do you need me to do?” Hadrian said finally. “I assume you have some sort of policing or public safety on the station. I know nothing about crime or forensics. I don’t really see how I could be of use.”

Yao gave him a look suggested Hadrian was brain-damaged. Which Hadrian might well be, being so recently woken from stasis. “Being in stasis must have really affected you. You’re a psion. You can detect falsehoods. It should be easy for you to wrinkle out the killer.”

Hadrian doubted that it would be this simple. He was also piqued by Yao so casually disrupting his plans to be discreet. Hauling suspects in to question them meant that he would not be able to be unobtrusive as possible. 

On this other hand, it would allow him access that a regular crew member lacked to the rest of the station. Hadrian knew that somewhere on this space station, the answer to the current mystery of his past lurked, elusive and yet just within his grasp. He could taste it, the certainty that he would find what he sought, even before he forgot everything. 

He raised his eyes to meet Yao’s. “I would be happy to help you catch the killer.”

~~

Hadrian was correct in assuming it would not be as easy to catch the killer as Yao appeared to think. 

For one, Hadrian was unable to fully exert conscious control. Every time he tried to relax and open his mind, feelings and memories bombarded him with such intensity that he bit his lip so hard it bled. 

He had also no idea how to sift through the emotions and recollections he could withstand. They came to him in bursts of images and sudden waves that his head reeled, leaving him unable to make any sense of his own identity, let alone if someone was guilty of murder. 

Hadrian massaged his temples. He gave up after they brought in the fifth man for questioning. He was a timid looking man who spoke in stuttered monosyllables, leaving Hadrian twitching anxiously for ten minutes after Hadrian had sent the man out. 

Darren entered the room, placing a mug of steaming tea in front of him.

Hadrian breathed it in. The smell of chrysanthemums filled his nose and centered him. Just its scent somewhat relieved the pressure digging insistently at the base of his skull. 

“Thank you,” he said, after draining half the mug with one quick gulp. The pleasant warmth of the liquid traveled through his body. In space, there was nowhere to escape the cold; it was an ever-persistent companion despite the numerous heat lamps and thermal fabrics woven into his clothes.

“Long day?” Darren looked sympathetic as he sat. “I can’t imagine having other people’s emotions invading you would be fun after you just woke from stasis.”  
“Usually people are worried about the opposite,” Hadrian said. “About psions sensing something that they want to hide.” 

“Still, can’t be easy for you to have other people’s thoughts and feelings in your head all day,” Darren said. He shuddered. “I don’t think I can handle it, personally.”

“We don’t actually hear thoughts, you know,” Hadrian corrected. “Just emotions and memories. Though with other psions, we’re able to communicate wordlessly with coherent thoughts. Same with Familiars.” 

“You remember all that?”

Hadrian stared at the tea dregs left in his mug. “Yes. But it’s difficult to do if you don’t have some sort of rapport with the other psion already.” He looked up and gave Darren a quick smile. “And it’s incredibly rude to do that with a stranger. You can probably guess that this is a very intimate way to communicate with someone.” 

A face came to him, inexplicably and with such detail that Hadrian saw even the tiny cut on the man’s lips.

It was a face startling in its beauty, with sharp, elegant cheeks and piercing eyes. They seemed to look upon Hadrian gently. Hadrian had the urge to run his hands through the man’s hair, to touch him, to hold him tight against Hadrian’s chest. 

He recalled pressing his forehead against the man’s, their minds touched and melded into one, waves of pleasure and tenderness crashing upon them as their lips met –

Hadrian coughed, breaking out of the spell. Darren eyed him with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said. If he shut his eyes, he could still see the man bright and clear against his lids. “Just a headache from a long day.”

Darren looked doubtful but kept quiet. They sat in stillness, Darren watching as Hadrian absorbed what he had just experienced. A profound sense of happiness and sorrow washed over him as he retraced the man’s face. 

He was certain that was a memory, the man a figure from his past. Someone important, who had brought him great joy – and caused him terrible pain. 

“You’re sure?” Darren spoke finally. He gave Hadrian a quick onceover. “You’ve gone suddenly pale. Really pale, even more than you already are.”

Hadrian gazed at his reflection in the metal table. A pale face, capped with dark hair, looked back, distorted and waxy on the steel surface. Even so, it was a pleasant face, with clear eyes and sharp good looks with a pointed jawline. It made sense now how Mei Mei had reacted when she first met him. Even now, she nursed a small infatuation with him, still blushing every time he entered the room. 

“I’m fine,” Hadrian said at least, pushing himself away from the table. “It’s just been a long day.” A sudden surge of frustration made him want to bang the table. He wished he could remember. 

“Hey.” Darren placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ll remember eventually. It’ll come back to you, one way or another.”

“What if it never does?” Hadrian gazed unseeingly at his hands. “What if I’ve lost those memories forever, that I’m forever damaged and broken like this? That I would never remember who I am?” 

Darren shifted uncomfortably. “You will.” He spoke gently. “Besides, you’re not damaged. You’re you, even you don’t have your memories.”

“But a part of me would be lost,” Hadrian said. “Incomplete. Can your identity still be your own if you don’t understand why it was shaped that way?”

Darren laughed, an easy laugh that cut through the tension. “Now you’re veering into philosophy here. I won’t bother trying to bandy words about this, but I think you have bigger issues on your hand.” His expression became somber. “Like us having a killer on the station.”

That was true, and Hadrian felt guilty at being so maudlin when people were being murdered. He had seen some of the pictures taken by the public safety team. Nothing in them suggested a natural death or accidents. A clean, efficient blow to the throat, crushing the windpipe; blunt force trauma to the back of the head – the only consolation came from the fact that the victims died relatively quickly and painlessly. 

“I don’t think having me question them is the most effective method to find the killer, whatever Yao believes,” he said. He looked at Darren, who, due to his medical expertise, had been tasked with leading the investigation as the forensic expert. “I can’t pick up anything.”

Darren agreed. “I think we’re going to have to use the time-tested methods of investigating. Like visiting the scene of the crime.”

~~

There was nothing remarkable about the site of the murder. It had occurred slightly off to the side in the small hangar of the station. The area where the victim’s body was found was outlined in white chalk by the public safety team. There were two other men working on a small scouter droid that traversed through space gathering data. 

Hadrian thought about how the man died. His windpipe had been crushed, the marks vivid against the pallor of death. There was no signs of struggles on the man: no bruising around the knuckles or the rest of the body. Were it not for the obviously unnatural way the man died, Hadrian would never have suspected murder.

He looked around and spotted a security cam pointed directly at where the crime happened. 

Hadrian frowned. It had been mentioned in the report that there was no indication of any incidents before a crewman discovered the body lying there. A chill crept up his spine at the idea of finding a dead body, the eyes vacant holes, limbs sprawled unnaturally on the floor. 

He forced himself to focus. Darren, in the meanwhile, had summon one of the crewmen for questioning.

“You’re sure the security cam is always on?” he was asking. “Always on?”

“Yes sir,” the crewman said. “They’re never turned off. Since we might get the odd visitors now and then, and our shifts might not overlap with their arrival, we keep the camera on so that we get alerts. They’re connected to the space buoys that alert us to shuttles and freights.”

“But the cam didn’t register anything and neither did any of the alerts go off around the time of the murder,” said Hadrian. “Is the cam connected to the alerts? I mean, would it only be turned on if the buoys’ sensors detected an incoming vessel?”

The crewman shook his head. “No. The camera is always turned on.”

Darren shared a look with Hadrian. Hadrian frowned. That left only two possibilities: either the murderer had some way of evading the camera, or the recording was compromised somehow. 

“Have there been any issues with the camera or the sensors?” Darren asked. His thoughts must have been along the same lines as Hadrian’s. “And evidence of the camera or sensors being damaged?”

“No,” the crewman said. “On the day before there was a scouter returning from a routine mission, and both the sensors and the cam worked fine. And after too.” He looked hesitantly at Darren.

“What, man? Spit it out?”

“Well, there’s a rumor going around the crew that the killer is not exactly human,” the crewman said in a carrying whisper. “That’s how the killer managed to kill the victims without them fighting back or leaving a trace. And it’s not one of us. We’re small group and tight-knit; you know that, Dr. Tsang.” 

Hadrian considered the crewman’s words. Not exactly human …. It would explain how the victims had made no attempts to defend themselves and the force and precision of the wounds. But what did that mean, ‘not exactly human?’

“We should check the recordings, Darren,” he said slowly. “For evidence if they’ve been tampered with. There might be clues there.”

“Thank you,” Darren said to the crewman as they left. Out of earshot, he asked Hadrian: “Not many people have access to the security recordings. Only Yao and whoever was on duty that night as Watchman.”

“I don’t think anyone on this station committed the murders,” Hadrian said. “Call it intuition. There’s no motive so for anyone. In fact, it would be a hindrance to have any one of the crewmembers incapacitated in some form.” 

“Not to mention the Watchman and Yao both lack the skills to hack and alter the recordings,” Darren said. “That I’m certain of.”

They watched the recording at the time the forensic team estimated when the murder happened over and over until the grainy details burned into Hadrian’s retinas. They showed nothing. The timestamps were accurate, there were no flickers or any other signs that told of tampering. 

Darren rubbed his head in frustrated exhaustion. “I was so sure we were on the right track. Damnit!”

An idea came to Hadrian. “Is it possible to see the encoding of the recording file?”

Darren looked at him curiously. “Of course. But what will that tell us? The system would know if there’s been any issue. The code’s too complicated for any human to understand.”

“Still,” Hadrian said. “Indulge me.” 

“Guess there’s no harm in it.” Darren pulled up the file on the console. The screen displayed strings of zeros and ones that flashed, line by line, bright green on the black background. Hadrian tapped a key to magnify.

These were so familiar to him, filling him with a sense of déjà vu. He could understand these somehow – these numbers were not meaningless gibberish to him. An idea came to him, that every set of binary corresponded to a pixel. 

“There!” He pointed to one. “That’s been tampered with.”

“How can you tell?” Darren looked dubious. “It’s just a bunch of zeros and ones.”

“Well, you can see that ….” He launched into an explanation, stopping short when he saw the glazed expression on Darren’s face. “Well, suffice it to say that someone did tamper with it, and managed to corrupt it so that the system was forced to use the previous images as backup. It’s quite sophisticated, actually, since whoever altered it had to choose the right point so that the system wouldn’t notice the error or the corrupted file.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Darren said. “So we know it’s been tampered with. What now? We go question who has access to this recording?”

“No need,” Hadrian said. He pressed another key. “This restores the recording to the original state.” 

It worked. The video jumped to life, the grainy image replaying the events of that moment.

They both started. 

Hadrian recognized the victim from the picture on the file. He was checking the scouter that had landed when a figure, concealed from somewhere on the underbelly of the droid, leapt out and struck a blow to the man’s neck. 

It happened in a blur. Hadrian could barely follow the movements with his eyes; the figure slipped around like a shadow. Hadrian paused the screen. 

By all measures, the murderer appeared to be a man, with a bland face that blended into any setting, and an average build that belied the incredible strength and speed with which he moved. 

Except his eyes. They flashed on the screen with a metallic glow. Hadrian noticed that they were entirely colored black, the pupils indistinguishable from the sclera. 

Its eyes were not human. 

“That’s not a man,” Hadrian said. “No human can move that fast, with that precision. And those eyes — not even someone with bio-augmented eyes would look like that.”

“That’s an android,” Darren said. “Those eyes are indicative of a forma body. A synthetic body. I worked on them before I came to this station.” A strange light came into his eyes. “They’re also what makes Familiar bodies.”

“I thought Familiars were spaceships?”

“They are, but their Cores are essentially computers in a way. They can download their consciousness into forma bodies to be on planet or space habitats. Usually to accompany their psions.”

“And you’re saying this android is a Familiar?”

“No,” Darren said. “Their consciousness is too different from a human’s to effectively use a humanoid body. They prefer animal ones.”

Hadrian narrowed his eyes, confused. “So what is an android then? And how do you know so much about this?”

Darren had a far-off expression, one that seemed to retreat to a different world, a different time. “I used to be in the medical corps during the Revolution of Light. I worked with more psions and Familiars than I could count.” He seemed to pull his thoughts together, giving Hadrian a sheepish look. “And studying androids and biomechanical engineering is my hobby. Androids use forma bodies, but have traditional computers to run their functions. Like droids, but better constructed.”

“Ah.” Revolution of Light, the war that brought the Preceptor to power … that term jogged something within his mind, unsettling like the dislodgement of a pebble. It itched at Hadrian to not remember why. He put aside that for now. “So we have a murderous android on the station?” 

It would provide an explanation, for both the cause of death and the ease with which the recording had been tampered with. Hadrian wondered how he himself were able to spot the alteration – it was not a skill a layman possessed. Yet when he sat at the console, it just took over him, like muscle memory or a reflex. How he had known how to interpret the encoding, how it came to him so easily, they were questions that needed to be answered.

After they find this android. 

“So now we know who the killer is,” Darren said, “what do we do now? Where would an android go to hide? The station is small, but it’s still possible. And what is it doing here? Why is it killing people?”

Hadrian spread his arms in resignation. “We’ll have no idea until we catch him and ask. Come on, we need to inform Yao of the new development.” 

~~

“An android?” Yao’s face was incredulous. “You’re not joking?”

Darren and Hadrian shook their head. Yao’s skepticism irked Hadrian. He was the one who thought Hadrian had the ability, in one form or another, to find their killer. And now Yao was doubting the result of their investigation. 

“There’s no uncertainty about it,” Darren said. “I studied androids, and formas are my areas of expertise. It was clear as day what the killer was.”

What. Not who. Hadrian narrowed his eyes at Yao’s next sentence.

“How did you know to recover the original recording?”

It was an innocent enough question, but it pricked at Hadrian the implication that he wasn’t capable of having such skills. 

“Instinct,” Hadrian said, settling on the truth. He adopted a flippant tone. “I told you, hard work on this station would help me regain my memories.” 

Yao did not like his manner, Hadrian could tell. But Hadrian didn’t give a damn anymore. All his life, people had underestimated him. overlooked him – it was a pleasure to prove his naysayer wrong.

Hadrian flushed. Where had that come from? Yao was a tiresome man, humorless and sour, but he was within his rights to be curious, and hadn’t been so offensive as to provoke such a strong reaction. 

There was so much about himself Hadrian did not know, so much that others took for granted from him. And once again, Hadrian wondered at why he had set on such a course of action, stepped on this journey he had no choice but to finish despite understanding nothing about the origin or the destination. 

Yao looked out his window into the wide expanse of space. “We need to catch this android,” he said. “I’ll order a sweep tomorrow, try to detect irregular signals within the station. In the meanwhile, you and Darren here will continue to look for clues as to its whereabouts. Be discreet. Rumors about the murders and your presence on this station here, Hadrian, have already circulated enough. They’re unsettling the crew and affecting productivity.” 

“I understand, sir,” Darren said. “But would it be better not to warn the crew? No matter how strong the android is, there’s safety in numbers. Perhaps if we could have the crewmembers work in pairs for their shifts, or –”

“No.” Yao sat down. His eyes were hard. “That’ll cause too much commotion. There’s no escaping the fact that the murders happened, but we need to let the crew know we have the situation under control and that there’s no need for any special measures.”

“But –”

“No.” Yao cut him off abruptly. “Rather than arguing over this with me here, you should go and search for more clues. The faster you find the android, the less you need to worry.”

It was a clear dismissal, and they had no choice but to bow their leave. Once out of Yao’s earshot, Darren hissed: “What an idiotic man. We do not have the situation under control at all. We’re risking the crew’s lives in the off-chance that we can find the android quickly.” He stopped suddenly, looking at Hadrian. “Although, with you here, the investigation has gone faster than it had before.”

They walked in silence, their footfalls echoing on the plastisteel floor. The hallway lights were unusually harsh, stinging Hadrian’s eyes. 

“I think I have an idea,” Darren said, suddenly stopping. 

“What?” Hadrian looked at him curiously. “What did you think of?”

“The cards,” he said. “You can use the cards.”

He meant the Ta’lo. The pack remained untouched in Hadrian’s quarters ever since Darren had returned them. Truth be told, Hadrian had been reluctant to approach them; they gave off an aura of – not exactly menace – unsettling potency. Hadrian tensed at the thought of using them unprepared. 

But there was a reason why he had brought them along all the way into deep space. They were no props; there had to be a purpose in him keeping them with himself. 

Hadrian took a deep breath and steeled himself. “They’re in my room,” he said. “I’m not sure how to use them, but I’ll try.”

“Bring them to the incident room,” Darren said. He typed a message on his wristcomm. “I’ll have Mei Mei meet us there with a fresh pot of tea.”

~~

Hadrian shuffled the cards, trying the quell his nervousness. He had borrowed Darren’s console and taken a quick perusal on the documentation surrounding the use of Ta’lo cards. The crystals were psycho-reactive, responded to a psion’s touch, resonating with his or her psyche to provide clarity and insight. 

It was not so much that the crystal cards had any ability to divine the future; rather, it appeared that they allowed the psion to order his thoughts and the inputs he had received, consciously or not, from others, into coherent patterns. According to the source he read, it was the original method with which psions communicated with the Familiar ships before Bonding. 

He concentrated, faintly conscious of an audience present, albeit only two, in the company of Darren and Mei Mei. 

With a wry smile, he let go his awareness of them, slacking into the high-backed steel chair. His hands moved, slipping the topmost cards out of the deck and placing it on the table. 

First was the skeletal rider, Death, on a pale horse, carrying a black flag emblazoned with a white flower. 

Hadrian frowned. This was obviously in reference to the murders. It told him nothing. He made to set the card aside when he saw the eyes of the ride. Dark but not empty, yet paradoxically bright, it reminded him of the android’s eyes in the security footage. 

Hadrian was drawn into the scene around Death, his fingers stiff as they touched on the supplicant bishop. 

To Hadrian, it almost appeared as if the bishop sought Death’s help. But who would willingly seek that?

Death brings changes, Hadrian reminded himself. And out of turmoil comes opportunity. 

Unbidden, an idea came to Hadrian: was the android here killing because someone had ordered it to? Who on this space station would warrant such effort? As far as Hadrian knew, no one. Even the administrator, Yao, was only of middling rank. A minor bureaucrat in the vast Protectorate apparatus. 

He placed the card down and looked at Mei Mei and Darren. “The android’s definitely on this station,” he said, with a stamp of certainty. “Somewhere.” 

He flipped the next one. 

The Spire. Deception and calamity. 

But that did nothing to pinpoint the location where the android might be hiding. The entire space station was an enormous cylinder – a tower.

Then Hadrian’s eyes lit on the lightning striking the battlement. 

“The android is on the top floor somewhere,” he said. “He’s hiding there, disguised. It makes sense: the top floor is the least frequented place in all the space station, but also the most heavily guarded. The bridge is usually empty since most of the station is automated, and no one would think to search up there.”

“But like you said, it’s the most secure location,” Mei Mei objected. “Won’t it be hard to hide there?”

Darren shook his head. “Not necessarily. This android has incredible physical prowess, and also the technical ability to wipe clean footage from a supposedly secured system. It wouldn’t be out of the imagination for him to sneak past the security there somehow. And it is light, compared to military installations.”

Mei Mei moved towards the door. “Then let’s go. The faster we finish this, the soon we can all sleep easier.”

Hadrian made to follow them, packing the cards as he rose. 

His fumbling hands accidently knocked one to the ground, the wafer-thin crystal clattering softly. Hadrian bent to pick it up. 

And froze. 

On the card was the clear features of the man he had seen in his memory. The piercing eyes, fierce in battle, looked straight at Hadrian; the sharp cheeks that Hadrian wanted to trace stood in relief, and Hadrian had such a rush of longing. The figure held the sword in his hand at the ready, jumping into the whirlwind of battle. The breath caught in Hadrian’s throat.

“The Chevalier of Sabres,” Darren said, looking over his shoulder. 

Hadrian stuffed it hastily back. “I don’t think it means anything,” he said. It was somehow … personal, this card, and his memory of the man on it. Something he did not want to share. “I wasn’t drawing for it. It probably means nothing.”

“You’re the psion here,” Darren shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

They moved with alacrity, grabbing whatever weapons were available. Hadrian felt odd with a lazeblaster in his hand. It weighed heavy, a symbol of the peril and the potential mortality of their mission. Mei Mei walked to the side, with an electro-axe better suited for cutting timber, and Darren carried a plasma carbine. 

They were a ragtag troupe which took the attention of all those who walked by them. Alarm sharpened against Hadrian’s mind. He growled in displeasure at all the commotion they were causing, but there was no way around it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Yao stormed out of his office, his face scowling with displeased surprise. “I’ve reports and calls for the last ten minutes about a group of hoodlums walking around the station armed enough to storm a fortress.”

“I wouldn’t say we look like hoodlums,” Mei Mei said mildly, though a spark of dislike for the man from her flitted across Hadrian’s mind. “More ridiculous than anything else, but what can you do? Besides, what else are we supposed to bring when we’re trying to arrest a rampaging android? Pails of water?” 

Hadrian quickly smothered his laugh as Yao turned his baleful gaze towards him. 

“You’re sure he’s here, Hadrian?” he asked. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “On this floor?”

Hadrian nodded.

“How?” Yao demanded. “This floor has the best security in the entire station; it’s impossible for anyone to be here without permission.”

Hadrian told Yao how he tapped into the tarots, watching as Yao’s eyebrows crawl higher to his nonexistent hairline. Hadrian didn’t need empathy to sense the skepticism emanating off of Yao. 

“So you’re stirring up a riot, invading this floor looking like a bunch of Corsairs, over a pack of cards?” Yao steepled his fingers together, his mouth pressed in a humorless line. “I have half a mind to toss you off this station for wasting my time and disrupting morale.”

“You told me to use my psionic abilities,” Hadrian said. He struggled to maintain an even and respectful tone. “The Ta’lo are a proven tool for psions for precognitive readings.”

“They’re not always accurate,” Yao pointed out. 

“There’s no harm in checking this floor in any case,” Darren intervened before Hadrian was tempted to make an intemperate remark. “It’s better safe than sorry. For your safety as well as everyone else’s.”

That seemed to mollify Yao. Hadrian made a mental note to himself that he needed to adopt his friend’s forthright manner when dealing with bureaucrats. 

Yao stood up. “I’m coming with you. I want to see this android for myself, to see what’s worth making all this commotion about.”

A few minutes later, they left his office, Yao disdaining to equip himself with any weapon except a small stun pistol. They walked, rather too conspicuously in Hadrian’s opinion, around the floor, Darren holding a sensor that stayed quiet.  
Then the sensor beeped. Darren narrowed his eyes and motioned for the others to stop. 

Hadrian’s heartbeat quickened. A faint trembling stemmed from his fingers, and he resisted the urge to crack them. He found himself holding his breath. 

He was not sure if the mix of anticipation and fear rushing through his body was entirely his own. They suffused him like ink in water, dying everything with a blast of emotions. 

He looked at Darren, waiting for a cue – anything – to focus on. 

Darren’s face pulled taut as he led the group to the door of a maintenance cabinet. It was used primary to store cleaning supplies and spare parts for the bots that did the most menial work on the station. There were not many of them, most of the station’s upkeep being done by human hands. 

Gesturing for others to take up position, Darren kicked the door open with one rough motion.

Inside sat the android on a bucket, squatting on it in a way that made Hadrian’s leg ache. It looked an uncomfortable position, one that any human would not be able to hold for long without severe discomfort, yet the android appeared to have been like that for hours. 

It looked … normal. Ordinary. Hadrian would not have been able to pick it out of a crowd. It had an average male face, bland and round. The only distinguishing feature was its eyes, blank and lidless, like cutouts of a mask. Or a skull. 

Even as the door banged, it came to life, flicking on with a black that absorbed light. It stood, its body unfolding as it shook out its limbs. A faint expression of what appeared to be amusement was on its face as it took in the four pointing their weapons at him. 

“Hello.” Its voice was surprisingly melodious, a low baritone that pricked at Hadrian’s consciousness. “How are you doing?”

“You are under arrest,” Yao said, drawing himself up to his full height. “For the murders of several crewmembers on this station, as well obtaining illegal entry and passage on this space station.”

The android laughed. Its face stretched into a smile. Hadrian scrutinized it for any sign of its nonhumanness other than the eyes. There was none. But for the eyes, Hadrian would have thought this to be a man, mistaken him for someone’s uncle, with its air of avuncular geniality. An uncharitable thought that Hadrian would much prefer this to Yao’s air of obstructing pomposity came to mind. 

It looked directly at Hadrian, and his blood chilled. That thought evaporated.

“Hello Hadrian,” the android said. “I was wondering when I would see you. I always did prefer the company of psions to ordinary humans.”

“You are under arrest,” Yao said again, his exasperation at being ignored showing, “for the murder of –”

“Oh, do shut up, man,” it snapped. Yao’s mouths closed like a fish’s, more out of surprise than obedience. “I’m trying to talk to the psion here.”

“How did you know who I am?” Hadrian’s mouth was cotton, and he could barely swallow. There was a faint drumming of recognition that tickled the edge of his mind. “Have I met you before?”

The android chuckled. “In a sense. Or perhaps, not really. Depends on your definition of ‘met’. I personally wouldn’t say we were ever acquainted, though I certainly have heard of you. And I’ve been looking for you.” 

“What?” Yao found his voice again. “You led him here,” he said accusingly, poking the barrel of the pistol in Hadrian’s chest. “You’re the one responsible for the deaths –”

“Don’t be daft, man,” the android said. It looked at Yao, its face forming what could only be an expression of contempt. “I have no idea how you became a station administrator with your lack of intelligence. Even stupider than ordinary humans. Of course, Hadrian didn’t lead me here. I was waiting for him. My algorithm can predict the route of his capsule.”

Hadrian didn’t want to agree with Yao, but it did sound like he had led the android here. He wetted his lips. “What do you want with me?”

“You don’t remember anything, do you?” the android asked with a look of pity at him. “I suppose stasis capsules aren’t particularly great for your synaptic functions, though I’m surprised it affected you to this degree. A pity, really. I respected your intellect. I particularly enjoyed some of your work regarding node-connections of the Old Dynasty.”

Hadrian had no idea what the android was talking about. “What do you want with me?” he repeated. “And why did you kill those people?”

“They happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The android shrugged its shoulders in a remarkably human-like manner. “The first one was because he saw me emerging from my hiding place on the scouter that brought me onto this station. The others, well … I had to test if any of my parts were damaged in some way, after spending so long in space.” 

Despite how human the android had been acting, those words reminded Hadrian abruptly that this was no man. No human would display such lack of care at killing his fellows. No guilt, no joy -- only simple, dispassionate curiosity. Unlike the others, whose emotions steamed off them, Hadrian detected nothing from the android. Only a blankness and a prick at his mind. 

Darren raised the barrel of the carbine at the android. “What do you want with Hadrian?” he asked, with a fierce undertone of protectiveness that brought Hadrian warmth. “He’s one of us now. We won’t let you kill again.”

“A stupid vow, considering you have no way to support it,” the android said. The amiable façade vanished, replaced now by businesslike focus. “Though I suppose I don’t really have to, not if he’s lost his memory. But then again, it’s better safe than sorry.”

“Enough!” Yao shouted. He was red in the face. “You are under arrest.” He raised his pistol to shoot –

The android responded faster than Hadrian thought possible, its movements a blur as it jumped at Yao, one hand knocking the pistol out of his hand as the other hit Yao’s chest with a force that sounded with an audible crack. 

Yao was sent flying backwards, the pistol flying across the floor as the others opened fire. 

The android ducked and weaved, a flesh-colored shadow that evaded the jets of lights. It bounced away without even a look back, calling out, “I’ll be back for you, my little psion. Maybe when you’re alone so we can have a little chat.”

Mei Mei moved to chase after him. Darren put a hand on her arm. There was an ugly smell of melted metal and singed plastic. 

“Leave him,” he said grimly. “We won’t catch him like this. He’s much too fast and strong for us to take.” He moved to check Yao, whose body laid on the floor, the neck bent at an unnatural angle. Even from this distance, Hadrian could tell the man was dead.

Darren stood up, his eyes darkening. “We need backup.”

“How?” Mei Mei asked, as she helped her superior move the body to the side of the corridor. “We don’t have enough weapons to arm the entire crew, and we’re clearly no match for the android. We can call for reinforcement from the Protectorate, but even sending out a message would take too long.”

Almost on cue, there was a beep on Darren’s wristcomm. He looked at it, his expression unfathomable. 

“We have reinforcements,” he said. “And they’ve just arrived.” 

~~

They stood in the hanger, waiting. The white outline of the body had been wiped, and the entire space was pristine. If not exactly new, at least it was presentable.

Hadrian watched, his hands clasped tight behind his back, as the shuttle docked. Through the filmy membrane sealing the oxygen in, he could see the cosmoliner berthed just beyond the station’s ring. 

His mind was disturbed. It kept replaying the glassy eyes of Yao’s dead body, the twisted bent of his neck, the slackened limbs. 

It was not grief, but a sense of painful responsibility that weighed him down. 

He had brought the android here. It was his fault that Yao was dead. Notwithstanding his dislike of the man in life, Hadrian could not ignore the fact that the android came to the station waiting for him and killed Yao. Along with the others. 

He needed to catch the android. It was his duty to wash the stain from his conscience. Hadrian could do nothing now for the victims, even the unlovable Yao, but he could ensure that their deaths were answered for, and the killer brought to justice.

Once again, he puzzled why the android wanted him. He recalled the Ta’lo, the image of the beseeching bishop. Was it not the android, but some other person that desired him dead? He cursed. He’d give anything to have his memories returned.

There was a soft chuckle from the landing party. Hadrian realized with a mortified start that he had spoken aloud. Darren looked upon him with disapproval while Mei Mei covered her mouth with a smile. 

But it was the source of the chuckle that grabbed his notice. 

It was the man.

The man from his flashback, the man on the Chevalier of Sabres. 

Hadrian’s vision tunneled until it reduced to himself and the man. He was even more striking in person, the perfection of pixels made flesh. Hadrian became aware of his own disheveled hair and rough uniform. Compared to him, the man was resplendent in his white robes woven from ssu-silk, his hair cropped on the sides and the bangs artfully parted over his eyes. He wore a platinum circlet, the delicate band glinting from the light of the shuttles. More than a head ther was the play of muscles. 

He looked directly at Hadrian, and Hadrian almost jumped at the touch of another mind against his own. It was cool and deliberate.

Hadrian threw everything he could to block the intrusion. It worked.

Almost.

Some part of himself crumbled to the touch. It was not foreign, but familiar. Hadrian could do nothing more than prevent himself from melting entirely. 

A chuckle seemed to run through his head, laughing at Hadrian’s panic. 

You were always uptight about maintaining your boundaries. 

And what’s wrong with that? I don’t think it’s a good habit to allow strangers to rummage through my head unchecked.

And yet you let me in, didn’t you?

Hadrian flushed. Before he could respond, there was a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

“Hadrian?” Mei Mei sounded concerned. “Are you alright? You’re not having a fit, are you?”

Across from them, the man retained his composure, perfectly poised with an expression of dispassionate attentiveness. But Hadrian saw the faintest curve of a smile, and heard the echoes of mirth from the other man. 

He was about to say something rude when Darren interrupted. 

“Might I present Master Cheung of the Cheung Clan? He has received our distress signal and rushed over to help us deal with our … problem.”

“Call me Antony,” the man said. “Master Cheung is what people call my father.” 

Hadrian blinked. The man – Antony Cheung – had a voice that ran clear and deep as a mighty river during spring. It was smoothing, with an easy confidence that was born out of a habit of command. 

“Master Antony is a psion,” Darren explained. He gave Hadrian a significant look. “And the Heir to the Cheung Clan.”

Hadrian shifted uncomfortably. The words reminded him of something, ringing of a past that was not quite so distant. He had already guessed that Antony was a psion, and a high-ranking one at that. Standing face to face with him, Hadrian experienced a tempest of contradictory emotions: elation, anger, relief, hurt -- and desire.

He tore his eyes away, to force himself from running them over and over the man’s body. Hadrian did not want to give Antony the satisfaction of knowing he had affected Hadrian so deeply.

And staring was rude. 

“I’m Darren Tsang, Chief Scientist and temporary station administrator,” Darren continued with his introduction. “These are my associates, Mei Mei and Hadrian.” Hadrian noted that Darren omitted both their surnames and breathed a sigh of relief. It would forestall the inevitable curiosity about Hadrian’s background. Except ….

Antony went to Mei Mei, greeting her with a low bow. “As striking as the stars themselves,” he murmured. 

Mei Mei twittered with embarrassed pleasure. A hot surge of jealousy cut through Hadrian. Who did this man think he is?

As if he had heard Hadrian’s thought – Hadrian cursed to himself, the blasted man likely had – Antony turned to Hadrian and gave a bow that mirrored the one he performed earlier, adding sardonic twist.

“Charming to meet such a handsome man such as you, Master Hadrian,” he said, his eyes alight with mocking amusement. Despite himself, Hadrian blushed. “It’s always a pleasure to find such a jewel, even amongst the most distant part of the galaxy.”

Hadrian had no idea how he would have reacted had the flattery came without the teasing behind it, but he found everything about the man irksome. He gave a stiff nod. 

“It is my honor to meet you,” he said coldly.

Darren shot a look at Hadrian. Hadrian felt confused annoyance.

This man is here to help them catch a killer, Hadrian reminded himself. He plastered on a more pleasant smile. 

“I hope you find your stay enjoyable,” he said, and wanted to kick himself. The man was not here for vacation. “I hope you have time when this business is finished to enjoy your stay,” he amended. 

“I’m sure I will,” Antony said. His eyes ran over Hadrian in a most familiar manner. Hadrian growled. Antony certainly had no qualms. “I’m starting to enjoy it already.”

“I assume you’re a much better fighter than we are,” Hadrian said. “The android is fast and strong.”

“Master Antony is a decorated war hero,” Darren said. “Ace pilot and a highly respected commander.”

“Can we see your Familiar?” Mei Mei asked, in what Hadrian would, in his uncharitable mood, characterize as a squeal. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Alas, she’s in space, circling the cosmoliner. She hates the artificial gravity of spacecraft. But maybe when this is over, I may be able to convince her to land on the station.”

Mei Mei nodded in disappointed understanding, though her eyes were still bright with admiration.

Hadrian was disappointed, too. He had hoped to be able to see one, so that he could understand more about the pendant he wore concealed under his uniform. The cold platinum pressed against his skin, a memento from a past that he could no longer unequivocally call his own. 

A Familiar and its Core … psions and the Cheung Clan … his head ached, and his insides constricted, the breath pressing against his ribs, wanting to escape, but trapped by his own body. Hadrian could not draw enough air – he was overwhelmed with the thoughts –

“Let’s move to somewhere more comfortable so we can discuss our next steps,” Antony said smoothly. Even as he nodded to his two acolytes coming out of the shuttle, he took Hadrian’s hand. His thumb rubbed against Hadrian’s, calming … Hadrian felt the cool touch of Antony’s mind, a wet cloth against the fevered thoughts rioting….

His breathing evened. Whatever Antony did, it worked. Hadrian was able to think again, to hear his own mind without worries clamoring for his attention. 

He was about to thank him when the hand let go, the unexpected absence hitting him with a jolt. He wanted that warmth back again, for Antony to hold on; there was a sense of bereavement at the renewed distance.

Hadrian shook himself mentally and followed as Darren led them to the reception room. 

“How did you arrive so quickly?” Mei Mei asked. “I didn’t know we had requested any help yet. Sending a courier would have taken at least a month, if not longer, to reach the closest settlement.”

Both Darren and Antony looked uncomfortable. They shared a look before Antony responded.

“We were already in the area,” he said, “when we received your distress signal.”

“I sent out a military distress signal as soon as we found out about the android,” Darren explained, “hoping that a patrol or an advance scout team were around. It was a long shot, but some have used our station for shore leave before.”

Antony nodded. “That’s precisely why we’re here. We were in the area investigating a probe’s report of a new planet when we received it.”

Lies and half-truths, Hadrian thought. It seemed reasonable, their explanation, and Mei Mei appeared satisfied with it, but it was suspicious how Antony and Darren’s stories complemented each other’s so well. 

His empathic abilities uncovered nothing, which revealed much in itself. Antony guarded his mind well, Hadrian sensing nothing from him but flirtatious interest, and from Darren there was only a cautious blankness that was the result of concentrated effort. 

Hadrian knew he had no choice but to trust Antony. And what happened earlier … the way Antony had calmed him down … 

Loathe as Hadrian was to admit it, Antony was attractive, rousing emotions and reactions ins his body. But more than that, Hadrian knew him. There was a familiarity, a yearning for him that went beyond physical attraction. The ease with which they communicated mentally, the way Antony looked at him.

They sat down in stiff metal chairs as Darren poured the tea. 

“The android is still on the station somewhere,” he said, his own cup untouched as the others sipped politely. Hadrian made a face; the tea was watery and insipid. 

“It’s after me, the android,” Hadrian said. “I don’t think it’ll leave until it got what it came for.”

Antony’s eyes narrowed. For a second, Hadrian thought he felt a flash of protective fury. Then it smoothed out into professional concentration. “We don’t let that happen,” he said. “We’ll catch it before it kills again.”

“Can we find it the same way you did earlier?” one of the acolytes asked. Hadrian tried to remember his name. Gaius Chiao. One of the young disciples of the Cheung Clan under Antony’s tutelage, out for his first mission. “We can use the sensor to find the forma body. The forma body is stronger and tougher than the human body, but it still needs oxygen to fuel it, so I don’t think the android will be hiding anywhere we cannot reach.” 

“We can,” Darren said. “But Yao was right; we need to minimize disruption to the station. The crew members are jumpy as it is; any more and the chaos would make it difficult to catch him.”

“And get to Hadrian,” Mei Mei added. “Or hurt more innocents.”

Antony set his teacup down. The steam curled lazily as he spoke slowly. “We should do it during a shift when most of the crew is sleeping, then. I don’t know your station’s schedule, but I’m assuming it follows the twenty-four-hour standard.”

“Yes. And I was thinking we have the shifts in larger groups so that there’s more safety in numbers. The android might be after Hadrian here, but it still kills indiscriminately, and we can’t risk that.”

The other acolyte, Marcus Chen, spoke thoughtfully. “Perhaps we can draw it out. Use something to trick it to lower its guard so it’s easier to capture.”

“Me.” The entire room turned to Hadrian. He swallowed. “Use me as bait.”

“Absolutely not!” Antony almost rose from his seat, his face a thunderous refusal.

They all stared at him. Antony turned red, as all the eyes in the room turned on him. Again, that flash of protective fury from this man that Hadrian had only just met. It gave Hadrian a sense of inexplicable satisfaction. 

“I just mean --” Antony sputtered, “-- it’s not a good idea – it’s dangerous. We can’t be sure of our chances and putting the android’s target right in front of him might just be giving it what it wants.”

“Are you not confident in your own abilities, Master Antony?” Hadrian asked archly. “I have every faith in you that you will keep me safe from harm.” Even having only met him, Hadrian could tell Antony was not usually flustered. He hid a grin. It was … endearing … to know that this elegant and graceful man was human like the rest of them. 

“Master Antony is perfectly capable of keeping you safe,” Gaius said hotly. “He’s just worried about you.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem, should it? And like I said, I have every confidence in his abilities. Besides, searching for the android will alert it to the fact that we’re looking for him. If we use me as bait, then we maintain the edge of surprise.”

“Hadrian has a point,” Darren said. “We have every faith in your abilities, Master Antony, and setting a trap would be the most efficient way to catch the android.”

Antony looked at them, his face frustrated. “I just – I don’t want Hadrian to get hurt,” he said finally. “But I see your point,” he reluctantly conceded.

They discussed the plan, deciding eventually that they would make a show of splitting up the search for the android. Hadrian would appear to be alone, with the others waiting secretly nearby, to draw it out.

As they broke for recess, with Mei Mei leading the newcomers to their quarters, Darren took Hadrian aside.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice barely above a hiss. “Why did that psion act like he knows you?”

“I don’t know,” Hadrian said truthfully. “I don’t remember him at all.”

“Are you not telling me something here? I’m your friend, Hadrian. If there’s anything, I need to know.”

“Why? It doesn’t affect the search for the android. Why should it matter? And speaking of concealing something, what about you?”

Darren stiffened. “What about me?”

If there had been any doubts before, they dissipated now. “You sent for the psions even before we discovered the android, didn’t you? That’s the only explanation for their most timely arrival. All that stuff about investigating a nearby planet – I’ve seen some of the scouter reports. There aren’t any planets close enough for them to arrive so quickly.”

Darren sighed. “Yes, I did. But it was before we woke you from the stasis sleep. That capsule you were in were reminiscent of some of the Cheung Clan’s technology, and I was worried about being unable to work it.”

“What do you mean, ‘Cheung Clan technology’? Why would I have been in their capsule? And I know – or remember nothing about this Cheung Clan.”

Darren’s face softened. “Of course. I should have known better. It doesn’t make sense to me, that’s all, how you and Master Antony interacted with each other. But I don’t doubt that you were hiding anything from me.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, but I feel like I know him from somewhere. Maybe that’s the reason. But I can’t really answer for it until I remember what happened to me, and I don’t. But what’s so special about the Cheung Clan?”

“Well, psions generally belong to four main Clans: The Lees, the Cheungs, the Aos, and the Liangs. I think it originally came from them being part of a scientific breeding program, which resulted in their organizing themselves by lineage. The Cheung Clan is the richest and governs Fragrant Orbital, one of the largest space settlements in the galaxy.”

“So they’re the leaders of the psions.”

“No, that would be the Lee Clan. The current Head of the Lee Clan is the Preceptor of the Protectorate. The Lee Clan is the largest and oldest of the psion clans, and the most powerful.”

Hadrian absorbed all this information. His heart thumped. All these facts were familiar, as though from a story told so many times that they rubbed into his subconscious. 

“So I might be from the Cheung Clan?” Hadrian said carefully. “If the capsule I came in is from them, and that Antony seems to know me, then I might be a member of the Cheung Clan too?”

“It’s possible,” Darren said. “But they’ll definitely have records of your genetic details. I think having them here would be the key to you recovering your identity.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Hadrian asked in a low voice. “It felt like I was running away, from — something. What if it’s them? The psions?”

“I don’t think Antony means you any harm, Hadrian. You saw how he acted back there. And my gut instinct tells me that this group that came today, at any rate, is trustworthy.”

Hadrian rubbed his head. “All the same, I’m worried. All this is because of me. The android being here, the psions being here ....” He dropped his hands in frustration. “I wish I could remember!”

Darren looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry if I brought them here without telling you. But maybe they will bring some answers.”

Hadrian forced himself to relax. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens after we capture the android, won’t we?”

Darren made a face. “I think you have a perfectly good plan, but you’re sure about being bait? Antony is right, you know. It’s very dangerous.”

“I do have faith in them, you know,” Hadrian said. “Antony and his acolytes. Even if he’s a pain in the ass, he does seem very competent.”

“He was perfectly pleasant,” countered Darren mildly, “and Mei Mei seems quite taken with him.”

Hadrian scowled at the reminder of the attention Antony had paid to Mei Mei. “You both are too taken in by the exterior,” he said darkly. “Just because a man’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.”

“Mei Mei convinced me to pull your capsule in because she thought you had a ‘handsome and honest face,’” Darren said with a smirk. 

Hadrian punched him lightly. “If the android doesn’t get me, I’m coming after you,” he said, though the smile on his face took away the edge of his words.

~~

He walked down the hallway with hands gripping the lazeblaster, his eyes darting side to side. Every shadow jumped at him, every corner lunging with the android lying in wait with his bland smile. 

Hadrian forced himself to exhale. He knew that others watched nearby, out of sight, every bit as tense as him.

He had originally intended to be unarmed, figuring that it would make for a more tempting target. But Antony had vociferously opposed that, pointing out that no one in his right mind would search for a killer android without a weapon. It would raise its suspicions, not to mention it was foolhardy. 

Against the others’ concurrence, he was forced to concede. The lazeblaster weighed awkwardly in his hands; Hadrian barely knew how to shoot one, let alone hit something as fast as the android. Now, however, it was a comfort to hold. The silence was a whetstone against his nerves, grinding down and screwing tight against his chest. He was even beginning to doubt that this was a good idea. Not only was it terrifying to stand with the corridor lights flickering loudly in the silence, but it also appeared that the android was not even here. 

His footsteps echoed as he moved. Hadrian wished that the corridor had windows to break up the harsh luminosity of the lights reflecting off the white plastic walls. 

His mind drifted. Why was the android after him? It made it clear that its only reason on the station was to kill him, yet Hadrian pulled up only blankness about the android. 

It was a complete contrast to his reaction to Antony. Hadrian could recall no concrete facts or memory about that man, but all the emotions and physical reaction Antony stirred up … Hadrian’s body reacted automatically, without any reason he could understand. 

The body knew what the mind forgot, Hadrian thought ruefully, as he rounded the corner. There had to be a past between them – Hadrian just knew it. It was not just physical desire or irritation at Antony’ highhanded manner that made him act thus, though those were present too. 

A tingle at the back of his neck – Hadrian swung around and fired. The acrid stink of charred plastic filled the hall.

There was chuckle. 

“Jumpy, aren’t we?” the android said. He sidestepped the scorched spot on the floor with a neat little hop. “You should relax, you know. It’s not pleasant to be so tense in artificial gravity. Especially one as low as this station’s.”

Hadrian leveled the barrel of the lazeblaster at it. “Why are you after me?” 

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” The android did not appear to care about the lazeblaster pointed directly at its chest. “Pity. Still, it makes my job easier.”

“I’m armed and you’re not,” Hadrian said, though there were no bravado in his words. He knew the android could – and would – move faster than he could fire. There was an insistent prickling at this mind, too, from the android’s presence. It reminded him of how Antony’s mind felt when he shielded it from Hadrian. 

Hadrian tensed. It was impossible – no android could give off a psychic presence that could be felt by a psion. They were machines, not humans. 

“You know better than to rely on a blaster, especially such an outdated one,” chided the android. “Even if you lost all your memories, you didn’t lose your common sense, did you?”

In response, Hadrian let off a shot that went wide and hit the ceiling.

“That was a warning shot,” he said, hoping that the others were close. He measured the gap between himself and the android. It was no more than a few meters, simple for the android to run him down.

“You were always a horrible shot, Hadrian,” another voice said. 

Antony came from the corner, hands easy at his side. He was unarmed, and Hadrian resisted an urge to scowl. After lecturing him about being safe, Antony showed up looking as though he came for a stroll. 

“Oh.” The android sounded disconcerted. “It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know you, do I? I have a horrid memory, especially with unmemorable faces such as yours.”

The android ignored the jibe. “I suppose it makes sense that we’re both here for the same reason,” it said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Though my mission comes before yours. You will let me do what I came here to do, will you? I hope you won’t be a hindrance, or I’ll have to hurt you too.” 

Antony glared at the android. “I can’t let you do that,” he said. “I won’t let you hurt him. Or anyone else. You’re under arrest. I’m bringing you back to Fragrant Orbital with me.”

The android pouted. “But I hate Fragrant Orbital. All the ups and downs of the different levels. And it’s far too wet for my taste.” It paused, its head cocked at Antony. “Even if you are the renowned Antony Cheung, I don’t think you will be able to take me. Not on your own. And dear little Hadrian here is no use in battle. We all know that.”

Without warning, Hadrian aimed the blaster at the android. It went off with a screech as the light lanced out. The wall behind the android smoldered as the android shifted in a haze of motion. 

Antony moved faster than Hadrian ever expected, his body a flash, mirroring the android’s speed. They crashed together with a force that made Hadrian wince. 

There was a loud shout. The two acolytes rushed out with shock-chains as Antony wrestled the android to the ground. They lassoed at the android on the ground, its arms pinned by Antony, his face ruddy from exertion. The chains fell, clinked as they met their target, binding the android tightly even as it thrashed with enough force to dislodge a chunk of melted plastic from the wall.

Depressions formed in the floor from their blows, spiderweb fissures in the plastic forming from where the android struggled in vain to break free. Darren and Mei Mei came around, both pointing blasters at the android. 

“Stun it,” panted Antony, his chest heaving. “I can’t hold onto him for much longer.”

Marcus pressed a button. Hadrian felt the chain buzz; his teeth gritted from its force, felt even at this distance. The android twitched on the floor, spasming like a dying insect before falling still. 

Hadrian approaches them cautiously. “Will it be alright?”

“It’s tougher than it looks,” Antony said, releasing the prone figure. “We’ve only knocked it out for an hour at the most.” He gestured for the acolytes to tie the android up. “Are you alright? You were damn brave to face it alone. I could barely hold on to it.”

His praise brought a burst of warmth to Hadrian. “How were you able to fight it with your bare hands?” he asked. 

“I have bioaugmentation that allows me faster reflexes and strength,” Antony explained, flexing his hand. “And I’ve specialized military training in hand-to-hand combat like all psions do.” He hesitated, and his face darkened for a moment. “Well, most do.”

“Master Antony is an instructor now,” Gaius piped up. “He’s been on the Commendation List for it.”

“Concentrate on your task, Gaius,” Antony scolded. “Make sure you tie it up well. It’s strong. A second more, and I would have lost it.” His face was still flushed, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. Hadrian repressed an urge to wipe it with his sleeve. 

Hadrian looked at the two acolytes carrying away the android’s still body. “What’s going to happen to it?”

“We’re taking it back to Fragrant Orbital,” Antony said. “It has … aspects … which are curious and would interest our techs.” 

Cold crept across his skin as it dawned on Hadrian what the android’s fate was. They were going to take it apart, dissect it in the name of science. 

Somehow, the idea was abhorrent. Despite the android’s heinous crimes, to be the subject of lab experiments, to go under the scalpel and examined with clinical interest piece by piece – it made Hadrian sick. 

He wanted to object, but what grounds did he have? Mei Mei and Darren both looked relieved at the sight of the android being carted away. 

Antony walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Hadrian grabbed onto that sensation, like a drowning man clutching at a life raft. 

Antony spoke quietly. “It was brave, doing what you did. Not many would have stood his ground back there.” 

“I’m fine,” Hadrian said. Physically, he was; not even a hair was out of place. But he still felt that same sense of disquiet, intensified now that the adrenaline of the encounter had passed. There were also the words that the android said, how it implied Antony was here for the same reason. 

Hadrian did not suspect that Antony intended to kill him, or indeed, mean him any harm. But intentions and actions are separate worlds. 

Yet that hand on his shoulder … Hadrian could not reject the comfort, the security it brought. It was that of a man he trusted, implicitly and without reservation, and Hadrian wished it could dispel all his misgivings.

But it did not.

With an effort, Hadrian pulled himself together. “You did well,” he said to Antony. “It’s very impressive. Almost didn’t look like a schoolyard brawl.” 

Antony chuckled. “It did kind of seem like that, didn’t it? Not that I’ve ever been in one.” 

Hadrian laughed, Antony’s weak joke somehow puncturing all the tension bottled up inside. “You don’t look like someone who did. Maybe a schoolyard debate, but definitely not a brawl.”

Antony smiled and Hadrian’s heart thumped. “You mean to say I’m quarrelsome, don’t you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth; I made no such comment,” Hadrian said primly, as the corners of his mouth quirked up. “What is Fragrant Orbital like? I heard it’s one the largest human settlements in space.”

“Come with me and you’ll find out,” Antony said. His face softened as he thought of his home. “It’s a beautiful place. It orbits the star of the Kuang’fu system, a completely man-made space habitat with over a hundred million people. Some say it looks like a mountain floating in the clouds; and there are several levels to it. You really should come back with me. Every marvel in the galaxy is found there.”

“It sounds wonderfully tempting,” Hadrian said, “but I think I’m going to stay here for the time being.”

“Why?” Antony sounded confused. “You’re wasted here. On a desolate space station, without resources or opportunity. If you tell me you want to stay here for the scintillating lifestyle, I’m not going to believe you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hadrian said. “Of course not. But I’m needed here, and I can’t just abandon it because I’m bored of it. What kind of person would I be if I abandoned my friends?” Not to mention, I still feel the answer to my past lies here, somewhere on or around this space station, Hadrian thought. 

Even so, the invitation held a certain appeal. Even from Antony’s brief sketch, Hadrian could see that a life in Fragrant Orbital would be a thrilling adventure, not to mention an opportunity to hone his psionic powers. From what Darren had told him, Hadrian knew that there would be teachers and books and peers that could guide him.

It was one of the centers of the Protectorate, where he could see all that this galaxy has to offer and sample at his leisure.

“It does sound appealing, though,” Hadrian admitted finally. He knew Antony probably knew what he was thinking anyways. “Maybe once my work here is done. I take it I’ll have an open invitation to come whenever?”

“Of course.” Antony’s reply was so casual that Hadrian felt let down. Perversely, he had wanted Antony to push harder. “You can come whenever you like. I’ll definitely show you around. All the sights, the landmarks,” Antony smirked, “the nightlife. Like I said, you can find the entire galaxy there – the good, the bad, and the strange.”

Hadrian looked at Antony. “And all that will be yours one day,” he said lightly. There was a pang in his chest, as Hadrian realized when that day comes, the Antony Cheung then would no longer be the same Antony that stood here bantering with him. It would be an Antony Cheung burdened with the lives and duties of a great jewel of the Protectorate. 

And Hadrian would be nothing more but an insignificant crew member of a remote space station. 

“Yes.” There was a strange expression on Antony’s face. He appeared as if he wanted to say something. Hadrian waited, but the man held his tongue. 

“We should get going,” Antony said finally. “The others will be wondering what we’re up to.”

“Like you said, there’s not much we can get up to on this space station,” Hadrian said, but he was smiling. “But Darren might open extra rations for us in celebration. Let’s go.”

~~  
Hadrian was right: Darren had dispersed extra rations for everyone on the station in celebration. Not to be outdone in generosity, Antony and his acolytes gifted the supplies they brought, including several cases of alcohol and several caddies of tea. 

All around, there was a collective sense of euphoric relief that the threat the station had lived under for months had been neutralized.

Hadrian found himself in a state of pleasant inebriation, feeling more relaxed than he had in days. He had a pleasant chat with Marcus about the station’s research and another, more formal conversation with Gaius regarding the type of training psions undergo. 

It was informative to learn, or relearn, that the training began at a young age, featuring both martial and academic learning, with the psions expected to be both fighters and scholars. There was also a heavy emphasis on controlling their mental powers, to know when to use them, and to know when to let thoughts alone.  
It was tempting even more after their conversation to leave with Antony. Hadrian sorely needed that discipline. He had managed to work out the mechanics of blocking others’ emotions from invading his mind, but it was hard work. His head still buzzed with the strain of having to do so. 

Curiously, the acolytes had not exerted any pressures on his mental barriers. Hadrian was unsure if it were due to his control improving or if the two were somehow wary of him. He made no mention of his identity, allowing them to think that he was simply another crew member aboard the station, though he was fairly certain those two had their suspicions. They were a bright lot, these psions. 

He reclined on his cot. It was solid and hard, with no give in the mattress. Hadrian stretched out, the little knots in his limbs releasing. He was strangely sore, his legs throbbing with a dull ache that did not hinder his ability to walk. It was still mildly distracting. It must be the artificial gravity of the station. Deep space outposts such as these could only generate roughly sixty percent of Standard Gravity; even so, Hadrian often had to grip the handrails on the sides when he moved too enthusiastically. 

It did make this cot more palatable, Hadrian thought. He did not mind its discomfort as much, as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by tired triumph. 

He seemed to drift, rocked by the weightlessness of space, shifting and turning with half-remembered memories, hearing cries from unseen faces and seeing faces too indistinct to make out. 

His hand twisted the sheets and his face creased. It was not an untroubled sleep; Hadrian’s mind could not relax, always on the cusp of waking, and yet paralyzed by some force that kept him from moving or speaking. The air stuck in his lungs, unable to escape, like a cork was lodged in his throat. 

He wanted to scream as a jolt hit him, shaking him from a troubled slumber. He opened his eyes, disoriented. 

And woke up in a room not his own. 

“Bad dream?”

Antony sat on a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, watching him with those wide, expressive eyes. 

Hadrian shot upright, panic filling his body. “What the hell? Why am I here? How are you – what did you do?”

Antony touched him, lightly, soothingly. Hadrian wanted to shake off his hand, but his body, traitorous as it was, unwound. 

He was in an elegantly decorated room, muted light from a nova lamp filling a space that was painted in eggshell white. Across from the bed was a small octagonal table with a wei’chi chess board, the black and white pieces already set up. A small vase depicting the sea waves crashing in foamy glory stood next it. Hadrian could tell it was an original, not a reproduction. There was nothing fixed down to the chamber’s surface, indicating to Hadrian that the ship’s gravity stabilizers were of top quality.

He jerked away from Antony. “When Darren gets wind of this ….”

“Darren was the one who asked us for help on this, remember?” Antony’s eyes glinted. “Besides, he can’t do anything now. The cosmoliner is too far from his station for him to act – even if he wished to fight three psions.”

Hadrian glared at him, but he knew he was defeated. Hadrian had witnessed how Antony had disarmed the android; what could Darren do against such an opponent, even if he wished to act?

“What do you want with me?” Hadrian asked, trying to settle his racing heart. It was not just the shock and fear at play; Hadrian could smell Antony’s scent at this proximity. It was a deep musk, a heady smell that set Hadrian on edge.

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” Antony asked, looking Hadrian directly in the eye. There was gentleness and a sense of sadness. “At first, I thought you were just acting out of pique, but you’re not, aren’t you? You really forgot.”

“Why does everyone assume I’m acting?” Hadrian said, exasperation overtaking his fear. “Do people really think it’s even reasonable for me to do that? I wouldn’t be wasting my time pretending to be a clueless idiot when I could be spending my energy so much more efficiently.” The words spilled out, angry and bitter, fueled by his frustration at himself for allowing this to happen and his fear that those memories were gone to him forever. “And just because I don’t remember does not mean I can’t see what you did was a blatant act of kidnap.”

Antony waited until Hadrian was panting. “You belong with us, Hadrian. You’re a psion. It’s not use hiding it from another psion. Besides,” Antony cracked a wry smile. “I know you.” 

“What?” Hadrian’s mouth was dry. “Like how the android knows me?” 

“I have no idea how the android knows you.” And here Antony frowned. “But we were – we are – friends.” 

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose spiriting a man from his bed in the middle of his sleep is such an act of camaraderie.”

Antony remained unrepentant. “I did invite you. And you did look interested. I’m just speeding up the timetable a bit.”

“I – never mind.” Clearly there was no arguing with him. Hadrian might as well use this opportunity to answer some of his questions. “Well, who am I then? If you say you’re my friend, then tell me: what is my favorite food?”

“Fried-corned chicken,” Antony said without skipping a beat. “And your name is Hadrian Lee, a powerful psion and a noted cydev.” He paused.” And the younger son of the Preceptor, Julius Lee.”

Hadrian gave a violent jerk. His elbow knocked over the lamp on the bedside table. It fell with a hard crash, the ceramic casing shattering on impact. 

“You remember?” Antony didn’t even flinch when the lamp knocked over. 

“No – I – I just – I’m not sure why I did that. The name – I just felt – scared.” Hadrian looked at Antony, aware that his words made no sense. “Sorry. Was that lamp expensive?” 

“It was a Chau piece,” Antony said, gazing intent at Hadrian. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything? No flashbacks, no sudden images, no strong impressions of anything?” 

Hadrian shook his head. He noticed that the floor appeared to be white marble veined with a subtle thread of silver. “No. Nothing. Aside from this overwhelming sense of urgency and fear, like I had to hide something before someone catches me.”

Antony looked disappointed – and Hadrian could be mistaken – a little relieved. 

“Well, give it time,” he said, his face stretching into an encouraging smile. “You’ll remember it soon enough.”

“I have nothing but time to try and remember things on this ship,” Hadrian said tartly. “Tell me, what exactly are you thinking? That’ you’ll just take me aboard and I’d agree to go back with you to Fragrant Orbital?”

“You don’t belong on that space station, Hadrian. You belong with your kind, with the psions. We have much better resources to help you regain your memory. You want that, don’t you? Not to mention, you’ll be safer with us. Especially if another android came. Your friends could be in danger with you there.”

The twisted fact of the matter is, a strong part of Hadrian was eager, elated, to finally leave that station. Even spending a few days on it drained him. It was worse than a prison with its isolation. And the promise Antony held out to Hadrian glittered like gold before him, ready for the taking. 

Hadrian took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll go back with you to the Orbital.”

Triumph played on Antony’s face, mingled with an emotion Hadrian could not identify. If he did not know better, he could have sworn it was worry. 

~~

Hadrian spent the next few days moping in the room, when he was not pressing Antony for information. 

Despite his promise, Antony was strangely reticent when answering Hadrian’s questions, his most frequent responses being “I can’t tell you how you should feel about that,” or “It’s better if you remembered that better for yourself.”

Faced with that, Hadrian had no choice but to resort to files on the data console. They provided scant material. Hadrian did learn, however, that the current Protectorate was only the remnant of a great interstellar civilization known now simply as the Old Dynasty that had achieved heights of technological prowess since lost. 

A great catastrophe known simply as the Fall had befallen the Old Dynasty, ripping it apart even as wars and feuds in its aftermath destroyed even more of their civilization. The current government claimed only to be a protector of the Old Empire’s legacy, hence the name Protectorate. 

They had only managed to recover a certain level of the Old Dynasty’s technology; as such, faster-than-light travel were prohibitively expensive, limited to only military crafts and cosmoliners for the most part. With the notable exceptions of the psions. 

Hadrian also searched for information about himself. There was a short entry on the console. He was apparently twenty-six standard years old as of two months ago, father Julius Lee, with a brother named Xander four years older. Prior to his disappearance, presumably due to a space accident, Hadrian was a noted cydev – cybertech developer – and a commemorated hero of the Revolution of Light. 

That would explain how Hadrian had understood, even instinctively, how the security footage at the Huang Station was altered. Perhaps he had not forgotten everything. 

Revolution of Light … Darren had mentioned being a part of the Revolution of Light. Yet Antony’s console shed no more light than what Hadrian already knew, that it was the conflict which brought the Preceptor – his father, Hadrian corrected himself – to power. His father had adopted the title of Preceptor, seeing himself a guide for the people of the Protectorate to restore the traditional glory of the Old Dynasty.

Hadrian blinked. He had been sitting for too long. Even with this ship’s superior artificial gravity, it still bothered to remain unmoving for more than an hour. He had stayed aboard for much of the voyage, only leaving for the cosmoliner’s lounge to stretch his legs. 

The cosmoliner, a huge transport capable of holding hundreds, if not thousands of smaller spacecrafts, was the main cargo carrier of the galaxy. It was a huge cylinder with its hull opened to space, and only a tiny fraction of its structure was the bridge, engine room, and quarters for the crew. For the most part, passengers of the individual vessels remained on their own ships, rarely disembarking for the small lounge on the cosmoliner.

Only enormous spacecrafts such as the cosmoliner and its military equivalent, the battleliners, had enough capacity to carry the enormous generators capable of powering the jump drive and the computer that calculated the navigational mathematics guiding the ship to safety. Other smaller ships were simply not able to do so, space and energy being insufficient to do so. 

The only exception was a Familiar fighter. Hadrian had seen Antony’s drifting next to the shuttle, a one-seater barely a third of the size. It was a sleek piece of machinery, silver chrome shining like a miniature star. Even from his window, Hadrian could sense the intelligence brimming from it. It was alive. Not as a human or an animal was, but Hadrian could find no other word that aptly described it. It seemed to regard him with curiosity, like an old friend examining him for changes after spending years apart. 

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Enter,” Hadrian called out.

Marcus entered, holding a tray. Gaius tagged not too far behind.

“Master Antony asked us to bring you some food,” Marcus said with careful politeness. 

“Thank you,” Hadrian said, standing up from the bed. “I’m about to go aboard the cosmoliner, though.”

Marcus scowled, setting the tray down with enough force that the plate shook. Even the meals aboard the shuttle were extravagant compared to how life had been on the Huang Station. Food were stored in stasis or frozen traditionally, rather than freeze-dried and processed. There was a small kitchen aboard, Hadrian recalled.

Gaius shot his friend a disapproving look. He said to Hadrian: “You can eat it later if you want. But Master Antony’s orders were to make sure you’re eating enough. He wants to ensure you have the proper nutrients after spending so long in suspended animation and on that space station.” 

Hadrian smiled at Gaius. Gaius had a friendly, easy-going manner that was in complete contrast to Marcus’s abrasive attitude. Hadrian wondered how they were friends. Then again, maybe Marcus only disliked Hadrian.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” Hadrian said apologetically. He was under no illusions that these two, acolytes as they were, could easily make his life hell. The reason they had forbore to do so had to do with Hadrian’s friendship with Antony. Friendship being a rather nebulous word to describe their relationship; Hadrian could only take Antony’s word at face value. “But I’ve been in this room for a while. I need to stretch my legs.” 

“This is the largest cabin onboard the shuttle,” Marcus said with a look of disdain. “Imagine how it must feel to have to sleep in the berth like us peons.”

Hadrian grimaced. He had no idea he’d be stepping on so many toes; evidently, Marcus disapproved of the special treatment Antony showered on Hadrian. But in his defense, he was brought aboard the shuttle against his will. Pointing that fact out, however, probably would not endear himself to Marcus. 

“Leave off, Marcus,” Gaius said. “The man’s been through a lot.”

“Ah yes, sleeping in the lap of luxury while Master Antony is forced to sleep on the bench in the meeting room is such an ordeal. I feel so bad for him.”

“What?” Hadrian had not taken the time to explore much of the ship beyond a cursory tour with Antony. He had assumed Antony simply installed him in a guest cabin. “This is his room?”

“Of course,” Marcus answered, with a curl of his lips. “What? Did you think this was some sort of guest cabin? This isn’t a yacht or a passenger ship.”

“Marcus!” Gaius glared at his friend. “Don’t be rude. Master Hadrian is a guest, and Master Antony is fine with the sleeping arrangements. I don’t see any reason why you should be upset by it.”

Marcus looked as if he were about to say more when Antony entered the cabin. 

“Don’t you two have your exercises to do?” he asked, his face suggesting he knew exactly what Marcus had been saying.

Even Marcus knew better than to challenge this dismissal. He shot Hadrian one final glare before bowing his leave to Antony. Gaius followed suit, giving Hadrian a contrite look. 

“Sorry,” Antony said in a low voice after both of the acolytes were gone. “Marcus is … well, he’s loyal to a fault. Once he warms up to you, though ….”

“I understand why he’s upset,” Hadrian said. “In all honesty, I would be too were I in his shoes. Why did you give up your cabin for me? You didn’t need to do that.”

Antony looked embarrassed. “You’re my guest. And after the circumstances with which you came aboard, I felt the least I could do was ensure you were comfortable.”

Hadrian should not have been so touched by that. He looked away. “Thanks.” 

It was awkward being in the same room with Antony; part of it was the ever-burning desire to grab onto the man and hold him. Another was Hadrian’s anger at the autocratic way Antony rode roughshod over Hadrian’s own goals. They mixed unpleasantly, and Hadrian could no more manage to calm it than he could calm a solar storm.

“Did you need something from me?” Hadrian asked. “I was about to go onboard the cosmoliner for a walk.”

“There is something, actually,” Antony said. “I’m about to go question the android. I was wondering if you wanted to join me.”

The android had been secured in the shuttle’s hold since this voyage began. Hadrian had not seen it since the day they captured him. Coming face to face with it again disquieted him – that bland facade hid a killing machine that sought his own death.

Yet Hadrian had questions to ask it. It was the only one who could provide details on who sought his death.

“Alright,” Hadrian said finally. “I’ll come with you.”

~~

The android was chained with the strongest restraints they had, yet it appeared remarkably composed when Hadrian and Antony entered the hold. It smiled at them when it saw their approach. 

They had attempted to analyze the android from a distance, fearing (probably correctly) that anything more involved would require putting themselves within the danger zone of the android’s reach. The ship also lacked the equipment for the more involved examination that they wanted to perform. 

But even a brief scan with a medical console showed that the android’s body was indeed forma, giving off a strong and unique energy signature from the mini-reactor that powered its movements and functions.

But what was unique about it was that its body was very human – the flesh and bones were real, and so were its internal organs. In fact, only the lack of a human brain, replaced by a dark on the screen, and its reactor indicated that the android was indeed an android, and not a human bioenhanced to an unpreceded degree.

“Hello, you two.” It reclined easily against the hull of the hold. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Who are you and why are you after Hadrian?” Antony said, placing his body instinctively in front of Hadrian. 

The android looked amused at Antony’s question. “You don’t expect it to be that easy, do you? Me simply telling you all the answer. I don’t even have them. I’m just a simple android.” He looked at Hadrian over Antony’s shoulder. “Your history, though, is not so simple, I believe. Much more interesting than mine.”

“Don’t give me that,” Antony growled. “You probably don’t feel pain but I’m sure I can make you feel the equivalent of it if you push me.”

The android looked bored. “Threats don’t work on me, you know. My analysis shows that they’re empty, and besides, I don’t think I’ll be staying for much longer.”

“You’re under lock and key in the middle of space,” Hadrian piped up from behind Antony. He understood why Antony felt he had to shield Hadrian from the android’s line of sight, but the overprotectiveness grated. There was no danger here, and Hadrian was no child that needed saving. 

Hadrian scrutinized the android. It appeared unworried. Perhaps it was not capable of feeling fear. “You know me. Where do you know me?” He did not try bargaining with the android – it was pointless to do so until they found the right leverage to move it. But its reactions during questioning could prove as telling as any of the answer it gave.

“Your friend just asked that,” the android said, reclining against the hold. It was a strangely human gesture. “You two are friends again, am I correct in assuming? You two seem close again.”

“Why shouldn’t we be?” Hadrian demanded. “What are you insinuating here?”

The android laughed. “Oh, this is hilarious. But I’m not surprised that the esteemed Antony Cheung didn’t tell you. How he hurt you, how he –”  
“That’s enough!” Antony had turned pale. His fists were clenched visibly. “You can’t make your way out of here by sowing dissent between us.”

“You’re right.” The android looked at Antony. “I don’t need to do that.”

With a pull, it broke from the chain restraining him, the loose end of it flying towards them. Antony jumped back, pulling Hadrian out of the way as the android ran past them, the chain crashing into the ship’s hull in a dull echo. 

Hadrian, dazed by the rapid events, blinked, his vision disoriented by what had happened.

Antony was made of sterner stuff. He was already up, dragging Hadrian up as he moved towards the door.

“We have to make sure it doesn’t get it away,” he yelled, as shouts and bangs sounded.

Hadrian finally pulled himself together, in time to chase after Antony as he ran out in pursuit. 

The android was already in an escape pod. The airlock was sealed, and Hadrian could see its grin behind the glass. It hit a sequence of buttons.

The pod shook, the bay of the shuttle quaking as the pod detached and ejected. Hadrian watched with a sinking sensation as it zoomed into the crack of the cosmoliner that opened into space. 

“Damn!” Antony’s face was flushed, a strand of hair stuck to his forehead. Hadrian stopped himself from reaching out to smooth it back in place. “We have to go after it.”

“I’m coming with you.” Hadrian knew that even before he spoke. He cut off Antony’s objection. “We’re linked somehow, the android and me. This is the only chance I have of regaining my memories. If you stop me, I’ll just come after you in another pod.”

“I can have you tied up to stop you from following.”

“Save it for the bedroom,” Hadrian said automatically. And then he blushed. Where did that come from? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant. I just –”

“Alright,” Antony said abruptly, his face also red. “You can come with me. It is a good chance to find out more about your past. Maybe riding on a Familiar would jog your memory.” 

Hadrian followed Antony to the launch. Antony had an expression of concentration on his face; Hadrian felt the waves of power that radiated as Antony called to his Familiar. 

It neared, drawing close to the shuttle’s connecting arm with a flapping sound. The Familiar was reminiscent of a kite, a triangular silhouette, with a long supple hull from which two limbs protruded, forming wings that were either retractable or extendable depending on the spaceship’s needs. 

“Hadrian, this is Luminosity.”

An instinct prompted Hadrian to bow to the craft. It somehow seemed the right thing to do. 

There was a spark touching his mind as Luminosity responded, a warm brush that nevertheless held a sharp edge to it. The fighter craft was not exactly hostile, but it was curious, and its intelligence had an element of alienness that made Hadrian blink.

But only for a moment. 

Hadrian acclimated to the differentness, focusing on forming pure emotions and images as opposed to thoughts. He formed images of curiosity and appreciation for the fighter’s elegant design and Hadrian’s own friendly interest.

The fighter touched his mind again, this time with what appeared to be approval.

“Climb on,” Antony said, jumping into the cockpit as the airlock released.

Hadrian stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

Déjà vu hit him like a falling wall. He’s been here before, he knew it. Hadrian saw himself, standing on a windswept tarmac, his face smarting from the chill as he swung himself in with a deft movement, Antony right behind him. 

He shook his head to clear the images. “Sorry.” Hadrian did not jump in, but clambered on, hands grappling at the smooth composite material of the hull. “There’s no room for me.”

“Ah.” Antony looked discomfited. “You’ll have to sit on my lap. It’s not that bad; the cockpit’s not as small as it looks, but there is only one seat.”

Hadrian took a deep breath and settled in. It was – odd – sitting in Antony’s lap. He was surrounded by Antony’s body heat, body boxed in by Antony’s larger frame. Despite the claustrophobic tightness of the space, Hadrian felt strangely at ease. Antony’s thighs were firm and muscular under him, and hot puffs of breath tickled his ears as Antony prepared to fly. 

The cockpit sprang to life. The main display was a touchscreen, with numbers and characters flashing too quickly for Hadrian to read. There were no controls, the craft being piloted by the psion’s mind. There was a snick as Antony slid his hands into sockets that locked on.  
Antony was right; there was enough space – for supplies, for water, waste processor, anything that a pilot needed to survive out in deep space. Hadrian relaxed, leaning back against Antony’s hard chest. 

“Do you remember anything?” 

“No. Should I?”

“You had a Familiar too.”

Hadrian knew that. The Core laid still against his chest, almost like a little heartbeat. When Hadrian had jumped into Luminosity, it had flared, with a sense of something almost like jealousy. It was odd, though; no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall an iota of detail about him piloting one. 

“I’ll remember it eventually,” Hadrian said. “Shouldn’t we be flying by now? The android’s getting away.”

“Still as pushy as ever,” Antony said, but Hadrian heard the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Luminosity is faster than some escape pod.”

“But it has a head start and space is infinite,” Hadrian reminded him as they moved out of the cosmoliner’s opening. Stars flickered, then blurred, as the ship accelerated.

Then he felt a knock on his mental barriers from the ship. 

“Luminosity has a lock on the target,” Antony said. Hadrian couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smirk in his tone. “Her sensors can spot a speck of space dust within two hundred kilometers.” He grew serious. “I was thinking … I can shoot it into smithereens, but it seems to have all the answers.”

“It might be a better idea to follow it, is what you’re saying.” 

Hadrian felt the nod.

“There’s a reason why it chose to escape now,” Antony said, “when it knows it’s essentially in the middle of nowhere, away from settled space.”

“But it’s an android. It can survive better than humans in deep space. It could be planning to latch onto the next passing cosmoliner or see where chance takes it.”

“There’s too great a risk for that,” Antony said. “It could spend millions of lightyears drifting before anything happens. No, I think it calculated its chances and decided to escape to whoever its backers are to regroup.”

“Well, I guess all this postulating is academic. We’ll just have to see where it goes.”

“Yes ….” The word stretched as Antony stared out the cockpit at the blur of the stars. “In the meanwhile, I think we should help you regain your memory. Your connection with the android might provide clues as to what we’ll find later.”

“How are we going to do that?” 

“Do you still have your Familiar Core with you?”

Hadrian fished it out, the pendant glistening in the starlight. 

“Place it in that drive over there,” Antony gestured at a small indentation on the ship’s panel. He withdrew a hand from the socket and closed it over Hadrian’s. “Luminosity will try to read your Core’s memory and interact with your mind to jog the remembering process.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

Antony shook his head. “There’s a lot of … I think it’s best that you remember for yourself. The information I can provide won’t compare to you reliving and re-experiencing who you were before all of this.”

Hadrian placed the pendant into the drive. He almost jumped at the shock went through his hand at the contact. Now that he was on the cusp of remembering, Hadrian had to admit he was afraid. There was a reason why he chose to forget, to give up a crucial part of his identity.

Then Antony’s mind grazed his. I’m with you. I’ll guide you through this.

What if I don’t want to remember? Hadrian thought back. What if those memories are painful?

A slight hesitation before Antony’s response.

Even so, Antony’s hand tightened over Hadrian’s. It is who you are. 

Hadrian took a deep breath as the ship’s consciousness nudged at his own. He forced himself to loosen, allowing himself to be drawn into Antony’s body heat and his senses. Antony’s mind provided an anchor of stability as Hadrian envisioned himself on a rocky promontory overlooking a raging sea.

Hadrian peered into the water, seeing images of himself smiling, picking up a feeling of an overwhelming sorrow, of anger and hurt, catching a vision of himself with his arm tight around Antony’s waist and of himself pointing a pistol at an indistinct figure. Hadrian steeled himself. 

And jumped in.


	2. Chapter 2

TEN YEARS AGO:  
What Hadrian first noticed on stepping out of the star yacht was the heat. 

Fragrant Orbital was in the part of its route when it touched close to the gas giant Chi’tou, and the heat seep through the “sky” – a synthetic membrane that allowed the space habitat to remain open, without physically enclosing the structure with metal.

The journey had not taken long, lasting only two Standard Days without even the need to jump space from the Lee Clanship. 

Part of this, the pilot explained, was because of the new specs of the Chien’Li’Ma, the Cheung Clan’s diplomatic yacht. The four engines were J12, the fastest in the galaxy, with power enough to outstrip a clipper. He explained that it was a sign of the Cheung’s respect for the Lee’s and the eagerness to host their friends to send the newest ship.

Hadrian stretched as he stepped on the tarmac. The habitat was beautiful if one ignored the heat. Built on the hulks of derelict Old Dynasty ships, the Cheung Clan and other colonists retrofitted and bound them into a single platform that orbited the Fu star system. It was the only settlement with living beings, the actual planets being gas giants unsuitable for human habitation. 

As they boarded the lift that took them to the Cheung Residency, Hadrian took in his first sight of the space orbital. 

Overlooking the gas giant with a manmade “mountain” at its center – holding the engine and internal generators of the platform -- the space orbital had a grand space dock filled with ships of all sizes loading and offloading their wares. Familiar fighter crafts flitted in and out between them. Hadrian could even see a cosmoliner, the enormous vessel dwarfed by the orbital’s structure as it received transports from the spaceport. Mining crafts came to and fro like fireflies between the system’s planets and the settlement. 

That was how the Fragrant Orbital got its name, processing the gasses of the planets into “fragrances” to ship across the galaxy.

“You must be young Master Lee.” A distinguished looking man came out to the courtyard to greet them. He was tall, with a mane of silver hair and a cane topped with a silver tiger’s head. He had a long face that was aged and lined, like paper folded over and over again. The man had an aura of regal dignity. Despite that, he possessed a crinkle of humor that was unexpected.

The driver placed the luggage on the ground and bowed low. “Master Cheung,” he gestured with pomp, “These are the two Lee brothers, Xander and Hadrian.” He picked up the luggage again. “I will have the housekeeper bring these to their guestrooms.”

The man nodded. “Their suites have already been prepared.” He smiled at the brothers. “Welcome to Fragrant Orbital. It is my honor to welcome the two sons of the great Julius Lee to my humble home. I am Cassius Cheung, the Suzerain of this settlement.” 

They bowed low. 

“We are honored to be here, Master Cheung,” Xander said. The complete opposite of Hadrian in appearance with his height and severe features, Xander often spoke up while Hadrian remained silent. He took after their father much more that Hadrian did, even aping their father’s mannerisms to a degree that was almost mimicry. “I am Xander Lee, and this is my brother, Hadrian.” The brothers bowed. 

“Come in.” Master Cheung led them through the gate. The Cheung Residency had been rather unimposing from the courtyard, being a tall, rather utilitarian stucco house built into the ersatz mountainside. Past the gate was a different matter: the floor was set in onyx, and footsteps echoed as we walked. It was inlaid in a curiously curved pattern that resembled vines, and Hadrian blinked to look away. They held one’s attention captive. In the center of the foyer was a great stone table with an intricate arrangement of peonies greeting visitors, and a huge calligraphy scroll was unfurled against the walls painted eggshell white. Around rose ornate fluted collars that gave the impression of soaring into greater heights.

Past the foyer, they entered the main hall, an imposing room with statues and pillars in even numbers on either side that anchored. Servants waited in a silent line, and simple wicker chairs inset with delicate patterns faced the great dais with a great rosewood seat.

“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Master Cheung said, gesturing for the brothers to sit. 

Xander slipped out a letter from the inner folds of his robes. “Our father sent this. He desires your reply as soon as possible.”

Master Cheung took it, reading quickly with pursed lips. Whatever the content was, it was evident that it was troubling. His brows furrowed as he put away the letter. 

Hadrian did not need to guess at what it asked. It was why they were here: the letter was from their father offering a coalition between the Lee and Cheung Clans to counter the increasing aggression of the Protector. 

Though the psion Clans were nominally part of the Protectorate that ruled the galaxy after the fall of the Old Dynasty, the reality was that they had long since achieved independence in all but name. Not only that, but due to the vast distance of space, only the psions’ superluminal communications were able to provide cohesion, giving them influence that balanced the central government’s power. 

Psions retained access to instantaneous communication and travel through their bonds with Familiars spacecrafts. Familiars were connected to each other through their own network based on thought, defying the understood laws of space and time. It was the key that maintained the psion Clans’ remarkable freedom even to this day and age. The Familiar ships and the sentient intelligence that guided them were also Old Dynasty technology, reversed-engineered to a degree that rendered them usable for the most part.

And in a tale as old as civilization, the governing powers cast a jealous and fearful eye on any autonomous force that potentially threatening their control. 

So far, the situation had not reached a tipping point. The Protector contented himself to making grand proclamations of unity and decrying insidious ‘separatist forces’ while ramping up military maneuvers near the Clanships. They had passed one such drill on their voyage here, actually. Hadrian had watched from the window as the first-rate battleliner unleashed a full broadside of its thousand anti-matter cannons on a target hulk. It was a nerve-wracking display of firepower – as it was intended to be. 

Hadrian had to content himself with the knowledge that a squad of Familiars were more than a match for the lumbering battleliner. Though the Familiar fighter could not match in terms of brute force, it was much nimbler, and its missiles, if aimed correctly, could punched through the battleliner’s armor. 

The only constraint was the small number of Familiar fighter and psion pairs that the Clans could field, in comparison to the Protector’s massive armies. It was a worry that kept Hadrian’s father awake at night, and why Lord Julius had sent him and his brother to Fragrant Orbital to arrange an alliance between the two most powerful psion Clans. Despite their disagreements and often-strained relationship, Hadrian was still a Lee, and obeyed his orders.

It was not entirely unwelcomed; Hadrian had lived under the shadow of the great Julius Lee’s disapproval for all his life. A change in setting would be refreshing. 

He forced himself to listen as Master Cheung and his brother continued to speak. 

“I understand that your stay is only temporary,” Master Cheung was saying. “You’ll be returning to the Lee Clanship in three days?”

Xander nodded. “My brother will be the liaison directing our diplomatic efforts here.”

Master Cheung smiled at Hadrian. It was a blast of paternal affection. “Wonderful. My son is about the same age as you. You two can keep each other company. You look like a good child. He needs someone sensible his age to be around.”

Hadrian had heard of his son. Antony Cheung, Heir to the Cheung Clan. Ace pilot and a genius that appeared only once a hundred years. He doubted someone with so lauded a reputation would need someone like him around. 

“I would be honored to make his acquaintance,” Hadrian said neutrally. 

Master Cheung beamed and rose from his seat. “Excellent! I believe he’s in the training hall now.” 

No, they weren’t too tired, they said. They followed Master Cheung through a labyrinthine set of passageways opening to a terrace overlooking the rest of the orbital. It was open to the air, inclement weather being an impossibility in the climate-controlled environment of a space habitat. 

A man stood at the center, working through his deep muscle-nerve combination exercises. Hadrian recognized the forms as ones his instructor scolded him for not managing to perform.

But it was the man, not the intricacies of his movements, that caught his attention. He was the most striking person Hadrian had ever met. The man stopped as the trio approached.

“These are the Lee brothers,” Master Cheung said when his son came over. “This is my son, Antony.”

They bowed, Hadrian making eye contact with Antony as he rose. Their gaze met, Antony’s a cool look full of curiosity. 

“Is something wrong?” Hadrian asked, when Antony’s stare continued. 

“Your hair is sticking up,” he pointed out in a carrying voice.

Hadrian’s hand flew to his hair as Xander laughed and Master Cheung colored. Master Cheung glared at his son. 

“Forgive my son, Master Hadrian,” Master Cheung said apologetically. “He has a tendency to speak without thinking.”

“Truth is a virtue,” Xander intoned gravely, and for a moment, Hadrian feared that he would launch into a recital of the Analects of Merits. “It is horribly messy, Hadrian. I told you to fix it before we landed.”

Hadrian bit the inside of his cheeks, careful to shield his irritation from the others. That was the issue with being in the company of psions all the time: one had to be careful or the line between thoughts and speech became blurred. Hadrian patted his hair down quickly, glaring at Antony. “Is it better now?”

“It’s tolerable.”

“Antony!” Master Cheung hissed, aghast, as Xander let out a loud guffaw. 

Xander nudged Hadrian. “You should be thanking him. Otherwise, you’d be walking around looking like a chicken all day with none the wiser.”

“Of course,” Hadrian bit out. He looked at Antony. “Thank you, Master Antony.”

Master Cheung chuckled, a startling sound against the tense atmosphere. “We’re not so formal here,” he said. “You can just call Antony by his given name.”

Xander did not look as if he approved of the suggestion, and neither did Antony. Hadrian was not particularly enamored either; it was odd to be so intimate with a stranger. Then again, anything that annoyed Antony would suit him for the moment. 

They followed Master Cheung to an area with seats set into the railing guarding against a precipitous fall and certain death down the cliff. The entire station was built in levels forming the mountain that was the superstructure. The previous Suzerains had the idea to use the overhang for botanic growth, with the result a breathtaking blend of civilization and nature. 

They settled in as servants entered with trays of teas and snacks. Hadrian picked out a biscuit and pondered at the spread of jams. What to pick?

There was a tap on his shoulder.

Antony held out a plate with a biscuit with orange curd already spread on it to him.

“Try this,” he said. “The orange is grown in our own gardens on the orbital.” 

“Hydroponics?”

He nodded. “Growing agriculture on a space station might seem odd, but it provides fresh vegetables for our diet and balances out the oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. It helps eases the strain on our life support system.”

“It’s a very well-designed system,” Hadrian said. He wondered what life would be like on a space orbital. Probably not much different from living on the Clanship. They were both spacecrafts, the only difference being that the Clanship moved at sub-light speed with no determinate route while the Fragrant Orbital circled a gas giant. 

“It’s not that bad,” Antony said, “living on a space orbital. With the exception of lighter gravity, you wouldn’t even notice that you’re not on an actual planet.”

“I’ve never lived on an actual planet,” Hadrian confessed. “I spent all my life on the Lee Clanship.” Then: “Don’t poke through my mind like that!”

Antony shrugged. “You were broadcasting your thoughts. I couldn’t help picking up some of your emotions.”

Hadrian stifled his retort as Master Cheung and Xander broke off their conversation to look over. He pulled his mental barriers tight, putting on a smile that felt stuck on his face.

“I’m glad to see you two are making friends,” Master Cheung said with a pleased expression. “I think you two will get along very well. Antony, didn’t you have some questions on how data is transferred over node-connections of the Old Dynasty? Hadrian here studies with the esteemed Professor Shang on the subject.”

“It’s just an interest I have,” Hadrian said. “But the Professor is the real expert. If you have any question, I’d be more than happy to set up a discussion between you two.”

“You should be spending more time studying the Classics or training,” his brother scowled, “not wasting your time on fanciful theories regarding bygone myths. I don’t know why father indulges you on this.”

He doesn’t, Hadrian wanted to retort. I had to fight for him to accept my apprenticeship with the Professor.

“Antony here already Bonded with his Familiar,” Master Cheung said. “I understand there’s a link between the superluminal communications of the Old Dynasty and how we utilize our Familiar Bonds.”

“You have a Familiar already?” Xander asked Antony incredulously. 

Antony nodded. “Just a few days ago actually.” His face softened and Hadrian felt his breath catch. “Her name is Luminosity.”

“Very appropriate name,” Xander nodded. “Maybe we can race sometime. Hadrian here,” he shot his brother a scowl, “still hasn’t Bonded with any yet. If only he spent more time training than bent over his console....”

“You can’t force a connection between a psion and a Familiar,” Antony said. “No amount of training can establish one if it’s not meant to happen.”

Hadrian saw with a rush of satisfaction as Xander flushed at the faint rebuke. 

“There’s a lot of racing nowadays outside the main belt of the station,” Master Cheung interjected smoothly. “Many of our youths like to gather on the Causeway to watch our hotshot pilots.”

“And did you participate?” Hadrian asked Antony.

He shook his head. “It’s too easy. The course might be difficult for acolytes training their Familiars or regular human pilots, but it isn’t difficult enough of a challenge for me.”

Antony had spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, without the intention to boast, yet Hadrian had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Somehow, the certainty with which he spoke was more obnoxious than if he had bragged.

“Maybe you should take my brother up on his offer then,” Hadrian said snidely. He was loath to admit it, but Xander was a stellar pilot. Much better than Hadrian, at any rate. Even though he had just met him, it would be satisfying to see Antony humbled a bit, and Hadrian was sure he was not the only one interested in that outcome.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Xander said. Hadrian knew what his brother was thinking; part of their father’s directive was for them to impress the Cheungs, show that the Lees would not be the junior partners in any pact they formed. There was no better demonstration than the Lee Heir besting the Cheung Heir in a fair contest. 

Antony’s eyes were cool as they looked at Hadrian. “If you insist,” he said, as though Hadrian was the one who challenged him. 

“I can’t think of a better show of the strength of our bond than a good, friendly match between our respective Heirs,” Master Cheung said. He could not look more satisfied, as though it had been his plan all along. Hadrian wondered at what the man was thinking. Master Cheung’s mind was far too guarded for any attempts to probe it to succeed, and Hadrian would be detected the moment he tried. 

“Then it’s settled,” Xander declared, clapping Antony on the back in what he thought must be a fraternal gesture. Hadrian had to smile at the flash of annoyance across Antony’s face. “We’ll race.”

“I’ll have my chamberlain arrange the details for it,” Master Cheung said. “In the meanwhile, I hope you have the opportunity to enjoy the sights. We have museums and universities and nightlife – everything that can be found in the galaxy can be found here.” He looked at Hadrian. “Antony can show you around. I think you’ll really enjoy your stay here.”

Hadrian’s smile felt like plaster ready to crack off his face. “Of course. That would be perfect.” He could not imagine being around Antony for a prolonged period of time; despite the man’s good looks, his manners were infuriatingly arrogant, but nothing that one could demand satisfaction for. Not that Hadrian indulged in a practice so barbaric as the duel. 

Antony was pleasant to look at, though. If only the man could keep his mouth shut, it would make the experience so much more pleasurable. 

“Hello? Hadrian, are you still with us?”

Hadrian realized he had been staring at Antony. He flushed. “Sorry. Was thinking about something.”

“Hadrian, you need to snap out of that habit,” Xander said with exasperation. “People will start to think you have a problem.”

Hadrian ignored Xander. His brother always made these sorts of sharp, jabbing comments. He had grown used to them. They meant nothing if he paid them no heed.

“Maybe Hadrian was checking if my hair was out of place too,” Antony said, and he directed a small grin at Hadrian. 

Hadrian stopped breathing. When Antony smiled, it was like the sun bursting out of the clouds, bright and full of warmth. With a start, he realized that it was Antony’s way of apology for behaving so abrasive earlier. 

~~

They separated after a few more minutes of small talk to change for tonight’s diplomatic function welcoming the Lee brothers. The synthetic membrane forming the atmospheric bubble keeping the oxygen in, or the ‘sky’, had turned a dull orange hue that signified the end of the day. The builders of Fragrant Orbital had evidently decided to keep the environment of the craft as close to a natural planet as possible. It was a convenient way to keep time, according to Master Cheung. Of course, he told them, it could also be changed to reflect a myriad of other colors, which happened on special occasions. 

Hadrian looked around. If he had not known he was in space already, he would have never suspected it. He and Xander were in the sitting room of Xander’s guest suite. It was decorated in a mix of modern and classical styles. The table was sleek metal and glass, while the chairs were wood, in a heavy dark color that balanced out the airiness of the contemporary furniture. It was a sign of the Orbital’s immensity that nothing was held down; it moved at a stable pace without fear of sudden movements. 

Hadrian felt the brush of soft fur against his knee. 

“Hello, Fidel.”

His brother’s Familiar looked at him through cool eyes of the wolf forma it preferred when it came on-world.

“I thought I told you I hated that name,” she growled, her jaws snapping sharply. “It’s Fidelity.”

Hadrian ignored her, settling in on the settee. He propped his feet on a table, an action that had his brother scowling at him.

“Sit like a proper gentleman, Hadrian. One would think you were raised in the wild the way you act.”

Hadrian sat upright reluctantly. Even in a new place, he had no desire to push his brother too far. 

“You should go fix your hair like that Antony suggested,” Xander said. 

“We’re not in public anymore. And besides, I’ll fix it when I change for the gala. There’s no point in doing anything now.”

“I’m going to call father,” Xander said, stroking his Familiar. “Report in after our journey. You wouldn’t want to let him see you like this, would you?”

No, he would not. Hadrian hurried to fix it, saying, “You can just have audio. I don’t see why it needs to be a full video call.”

“Besides unlike you, dear brother, I actually respect our father, and have nothing to hide from him.”

“Connection established,” Fidel said, as her eyes went blank. Her entire body stilled, fur rippling twice before flattening. “Transmission incoming.” 

Her eyes lit and projected a display of their father. It hovered over the table, the light against the glass. 

The brothers both bowed. Julius Lee looked at them. He was an intimidating man with the elegant features of a patrician, topped with a mane of silver hair. His eyes were dark, assessing, absorbing all that he saw and measuring their worth in his plans.

“What news from the Cheungs?” he asked, his voice coming out clear and strong despite being light-years away. It was only through the Familiar bond that modern-day instantaneous communication could be achieved. All Familiars shared with each other a psychic link that allowed them to speak with one another at the speed of thought; the Familiar in turn recorded and relayed messages from others, serving as the node in which data and information were transferred. In the infinitude of space, this was so far the only reliable method to exchange information immediately. 

“All is well with them, father,” Xander said. “Nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. The spaceport is busy as ever, and the people seem content. There aren’t any issues that appear to be pressing on Master Cheung or his son’s mind.”

Their father nodded. “That is good. I had received reports that the Protector’s agents have been active on the orbital, stirring anti-psion sentiments. I am glad that is not the case. It would make our appeals to an alliance much stronger.”

“The people here seem happy with the Cheungs, father,” Hadrian said.

Xander nodded. “The city is unordered and chaotic, but the underlying patterns of daily life do not seem to be disturbed in any way, and people generally go about their business without worry. I have not sensed any animosity or tension.”

Julius Lee nodded. “That is for the best. What does Master Cheung or his Heir say about the Protectorate’s aggression?”

“To be frank, not much. It did not come up in conversation when they received us just now, although Master Cheung appears to be receptive to our offer.”

“There isn’t a better symbol of goodwill than having a Lee as personal liaison,” Julius Lee said, steeping his fingers. “Even a second son honors them with his presence.” He turned his gaze on Hadrian. “You will behave, won’t you? Represent our Clan with dignity and not lose face before the Cheungs?”

“Of course, father.” Hadrian bowed his head. 

“That means no more hiding in your room or among your books and console,” his father continued. “You’ll have to relegate your hobbies to what they are – hobbies. Your filial duties comes first. Our Clan faces a pivotal moment in its history. You have your role to play, just like everyone else.”

What could he say to that? Hadrian kept his head bowed. 

“It’s a pity Xander can’t keep an eye on you,” his father mused. “But I need him here by my side. There is much to be done, much to prepare for, and I can’t spare him for such a trivial matter.”

“Don’t worry, father,” Xander said. “Hadrian may be a little different, but he’ll fulfill his duties like you ask.” He shot a glance at Hadrian. Say something to reassure father, he said mentally. 

Hadrian was grateful that unlike verbal and visual communication, psychic connections could not be picked up in a Familiar transmission. 

Xander was like that, Hadrian reflected as he spoke trite words to placate his father. His older brother often behaved stern and disapproving in a pale imitation, but it was only that – a pale imitation. Xander was much softer than he liked to let on. 

“I’m glad you understand,” my father said. “I have reports of a battle group approaching the Fu system. Warn the Cheungs to be careful. Fragant Orbital is not as secure as a Clanship.” 

Unlike a Clanship, where only psions of the same Clan resided, Fragrant Orbital was a true space settlement, with hundreds of millions of inhabitants from all over the galaxy, some as traders, some as artisans and engineers and craftsmen, and some as scholars here for the top-ranked university and museums. 

“The people here won’t stand for it,” Hadrian said automatically. “I could tell, even from a glance, that they love the Cheungs here. They won’t tolerate the Protectorate’s saber-rattling.”

“That may be true, but if they truly attacked, the Orbital won’t stand a chance. Even a squad of Familiars would hard-pressed to fend off an attack from a Protectorate battle group, especially if they need to protect civilians while they’re at it.” 

That was a sobering thought. 

“But it also provides them with immeasurable resources,” Julius Lee said. “It’s why the Cheungs are the richest Clan in the known galaxy. Their reach extends everywhere: holding companies, banks, shipyards, factories, philanthropical foundations. They’re one of the major supplies of energy to the Protector’s Palace.”

“That makes them an even more tempting target for the Protector,” Hadrian said. “A combination of a threat and a payoff, all at once.”

“If they manage to be taken down,” Xander said. “I don’t think the Cheungs are lambs for the slaughter. That Antony, for example … he seems like a tough one.”

“What? Scared that you’ll have to race him now?”

“What are you talking about?” Their father frowned. “What race?”

“I’m racing Antony Cheung in a race that the Orbital holds,” Xander explained. “Apparently, it’s somewhat of a tradition.”

“Make sure you win then,” Julius Lee said, his eyes narrowed, “if you are planning to engage in such a plebian display.”

“Of course, father,” Xander appeared to stand on a bedrock of confidence. “Is that in any doubt?”

Their father merely looked at his sons before cutting the signal. The Familiar’s body loosened, alertness coming back gradually into her eyes. She stretched her body out, her fur a cloud of silver as it fanned out.

“My analysis is that you will place in the race,” she said to her psion. “I cannot predict the likelihood of your victory; I lack enough data to make that call.”

“You’ve been with me every time I’ve flown,” Xander said. “I think you should have enough data to make that determination.”

“But not how Antony Cheung flies,” she said. “I tapped into the Orbital’s networks and found discussions of his reputation as a superb pilot, both from the acolytes and the citizens. But I have not found any recordings of him actually flying to analyze for myself.”

“You have access to their networks?”

“Only the public ones,” the Familiar said. “I have not managed to make any connections with the Cheung’s Familiars; they are very distrusting of outsiders.”

Hadrian snorted. “Aren’t we all?” Despite the commonalities and shared history between the psion Clans, each guarded its privacy jealously, maintaining a rivalry that, while friendly for the most part, was seriously taken. 

Xander looked at Hadrian. “Do you think you can hack into their networks? You do it often enough back home.”

“I thought you don’t approve of my hobbies,” Hadrian said snidely. “Besides, didn’t you hear father? Don’t dishonor the family name, and all that. What happens if I get caught?”

“That will depend on how good you are, won’t it?” Fidel said, her eyes challenging Hadrian.

Hadrian knew he should not rise to the bait. He knew the consequences of failure would be more severe than the tongue-lashing he had endured at home, and that he had no desire to begin his stay in such a way. 

But despite the blatant provocation, the challenge was there, and Hadrian heard its siren call loud and clear. His fingers itched to test the Cheung network’s defenses, and he had to confess he was curious to learn more about Antony Cheung. Hadrian could not get the man’s face out of his head. That cool visage breaking into that smile … his unexpected attentions back at tea….

To distract himself, he looked at his brother. “You do realize it’s quite unsporting to break into someone else’s network to gain an advantage for a race you forced on your opponent, right?”

His brother glared at Hadrian. “It’s not cheating. I’m not asking you for information on the course or to sabotage anything. I’m only asking to learn more about our new friend. Besides, it’ll benefit you too, since you’ll be the one dealing with him more than me.” Xander paused. “Unless, of course, you can’t do it. It’s no shame; their network security is probably more than you can handle anyways.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me angry,” Hadrian said. “And it won’t work. But I will see what I can find out. Not to prove to you I can do it, but for myself. But if he’s just bonded with his Familiar, there might not be any data on how he pilots one anyways.”

“He still will have to train as a pilot to get accustomed to flying in space,” Fidel said. She swished her tail. “That’s why all psions undergo pilot training. Even you.”

Hadrian stared at his hands, feeling the electro-pulse of the bio-augmentation system that gave him the speed and reflexes allowing him to pilot a spacecraft, and helped adjust his body to rapid changes in gravity. It was barely noticeable; compared to his brother and other psions, Hadrian had elected to install the minimum enhancements needed. 

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said finally, conceding to his brother. “Though I still think it’s cheating.” 

~~

It was a glittering affair, the gala that the Cheungs held to welcome the Lee brothers onboard the Fragrant Orbital. 

Held in the grand hall of the Cheung Residency, the event counted not just the brothers and the Cheung household as attendees but entire upper echelon of Fragrant Orbital society. 

The Hall of Thousands could, indeed, fit thousands. With its vaulted ceiling, it gave the impression of soaring height. Carvings of dragons and other mythical creatures watched from a caisson on high, their gilded bodies gleaming in the mid-afternoon sun, the light sparkling from the polished pearl in the four-clawed dragon. 

Hadrian was dressed more formally than he had ever before, his brother having strode into his room and tossed aside the set of robes he had planned to wear.

“You need something much more formal,” Xander had said, casting a disapproving eye on Hadrian’s choice. “Look! There are stains on this!”

“That’s just from it being folded!” Hadrian protested. “Besides, these are the only formal robes I have.” 

Xander tossed another set at him. “It’s a good thing I brought an extra. Trust me. I’ve been to more of these events than you. You always hid while they’re happening back home. People who attend these things have a sharp eye for these kinds of details. I know you think they’re frivolous, but they matter, and it’ll affect how we’re perceived here.”

Hadrian had to reluctantly agree with his brother as he looked at the attendees. They were more ornamental than the Hall’s decorations. Clad in silken finery and laden with jewels, these men and women blended into the luxurious surrounding -- the intricately painted patterns on the walls in vermillion and gold was dull compared to what the attendees wore. To a stranger, it all came together in a dazzlingly blaze that was meant to hammer the uninitiated into submission.

Hadrian wondered idly how Antony viewed all of this. Antony obviously had grown up with this spectacle of wealth, but he seemed the least worldly person Hadrian knew. Or, at the very least, he held the world to some exacting standard that was his own and not dictated by the material trappings of wealth and power. 

Hadrian thought of the information on Antony that he had found in the Cheung’s networks. As he had predicted, there was not much regarding Antony’s flying skills. Only item of note Hadrian had found was a recording of Antony zipping around in the ersatz atmosphere of the orbital like jagged lightning. Hadrian had handed the data slip to his brother anyways. Let Xander make of that what he will. 

Hadrian had absorbed all that he could on Antony. Most of it were irrelevant medical figures that demonstrated how physically fit Antony was. But they told nothing about the man himself, and a disappointed Hadrian resigned himself to finding out the analog way about the man: through actual interaction. 

He bowed politely to two manufacturers of handhelds who greeted him with interest and smiled to the daughter of what apparently was the second largest insurer on the Orbital. 

Hadrian rubbed his head. The difficulty of shielding his mind to prevent the onslaught of minds in a gathering this size was draining. It was for a reason why he often avoided crowds and public functions. 

“You look like you need a drink,” someone said as he handed him a flute of champagne. 

“Thank you.” Hadrian accepted the glass gratefully. It wouldn’t do much to ease the mental pressure — nothing would — but it might ease his dislike of the stifling atmosphere. “I’m Hadrian, by the way. Hadrian Lee —"

“I know who you are,” the man said smoothly. “Hadrian Lee, of the Lee Clan, second son of Master Julius Lee.” He gave a quick bow. “Wang Yibiao, at your service.”

Hadrian squinted at him. The man was of average height, with a face that would have been good looking had it not been for his eyes, calculating and beady. 

That was uncharitable, Hadrian scolded himself. Wang could be a saintly philanthropist for all Hadrian knew. Hadrian had attempted to memorize the guest list as per Xander’s instructions, but one or two faces still escaped him. 

Hadrian could not think of a way to ask without appearing rude. If Mr. Wang were a man of note, he might be offended by such a question, and if he were a nobody, he might be embarrassed by it. 

Hadrian attempted to solve the problem by probing the man’s mind. He ventured from his shield — and was met with nothing. 

The man had obviously spent time with psions, if he knew how to protect his thoughts in such a manner. 

“How are you?” Hadrian asked finally, when he could find no opening, not even a subtle trace of emotion leaking. “Enjoying this event?”

The man smiled at Hadrian, as if he knew exactly what Hadrian had just attempted to do. “A fair bit, actually. Free food and wine, and not to mention, meeting such interesting people.” He eyed as a snake would a rabbit. “New people, I mean. Psions are so fascinating, don’t you think?”

Hadrian supposed he had to give the man some allowance after he had just tried to probe the man’s mind. But the way the man spoke, and his body language – some unconscious part of Hadrian cringed away, and Hadrian wanted nothing less to do than engage this man in conversation. 

But that would be a breach of etiquette and a snub; this man might even have enough rank to call Hadrian out. There was no polite way to extricate himself. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Just the natural abilities, the differences between you and us, they pose very philosophical questions, don’t you think? What defines humanity, for instance?”

Hadrian colored. “Psions, or psychics, have been recorded in human history for eons. Mediums, shamans, witches, clairvoyants – we’re not a new occurrence, and we have every quality of what makes a human a human.”

Wang did not appear discomfited by Hadrian’s outburst. “Still, I’m a scientist by trade, and I find the scientific aspects of the difference fascinating. For example, your magnificent neural structures that make the psion-Familiar Bond possible. Why is it that they only accept psions and not other? These are all fascinating to me.”

“I believe there are Old Dynasty texts that explains some of your questions,” Hadrian said. “Perhaps you can search for your answers in there.”

He had meant that comment as a dismissal, but Wang did not seem to take the hint. His eyes were still fixed on Hadrian.

“The link between the Old Dynasty and the psions is another fascinating subject. No one really understands their technology, and how it’s tied up with psionic abilities. They’re the ones whose technology forms the bedrock of our reliance on psionic abilities.”

“Indeed.” Hadrian gave him a polite smile. There was an unsettling quality about his fixation with psions, one that went beyond his professed scientific interest. This man had a strange gleam in his expression when he looked at Hadrian; it was a hunger that was akin to lust, though Hadrian knew that was not the emotion the man felt. 

With some relief, he saw Antony approach them. The man followed his gaze. 

“Ah. Master Antony. How pleasant it is to see you.”

“Mr. Wang.” Antony graced him with a stiff nod. “Master Hadrian.” 

“Antony.” He realized he had sighed almost audibly. “I’m glad to see you. Are you enjoying the party?”

Antony ignored the question. “Master Hadrian, I need to speak with you.”

Wang glanced at Antony with a sly look. “Always attempting to monopolize the best-looking ones in the room, I see. I was just having the most pleasant conversation with Master Lee here.”

“I’m sure of it,” Antony said coolly. 

“What have you been up to, my friend? Overseeing the system defenses? You know, if you simply accept our offer of a garrison, there would be no more onerous patrol duties.”

“We’ve already decided that was not going to happen,” Antony said, his face tight. “There will be no Protectorate garrison in the system.”

While Hadrian had not found many details on Antony Cheung, he had found other information that were interesting, one being negotiations between the Cheungs and the central government regarding the stationing of a garrison in the Fu system to patrol for piracy and smugglers. From the reports he had seen, it was clear that the Protector’s offer was only a front. The Cheung’s advisers had postulated that stationing military forces was only the first step to increasing control in the system. 

“You’ll see one day that we are all one civilization under the Protector,” Wang said, still pleasantly as ever, though his eyes burned with anger. “Your refusal only furthers the forces of the separatism. It sends a wrong signal to those who are on the wrong side of history.”

“History is not for you or me to decide,” Antony said. “Neither is the right of a people to determine their own path. Besides, we have never denied we are part of the Protectorate. But we do deny the encroachment of those who would impose and burden our people with their onerous demands and destroy the precious freedoms they have.”

“Those are blatant falsehoods bandied about by those separatists,” Wang said. “I’m disappointed that you pay them heed, Master Antony. Our intentions are benevolent. We only seek the rejuvenation of the Protectorate.” 

“Our security forces caught an agent attempting to spirit the noted playwright Pa’Chiau off the Orbital,” Antony said. 

“That has nothing to do with us,” Wang said, though his smile had slipped now. 

Hadrian had also seen the report on that incident. The playwright Pa’Chiau often penned plays satirizing high-ranking nobles and officials in the Protectorate. Having offended so many powerful people, he had fled to the Fragrant Orbital for his own safety. More than a standard month ago, a man had broken into his house and sought to kidnap him off-station before getting caught at the space port.

“Once off, he would lose the protection and rights guaranteed under the Joint Declaration between our Clan and the Protector. He would be exposed to all those he had offended with his works. Imagine that.”

“Criminal gangs often work for unscrupulous officials,” Wang said. “Though I can guarantee you, the Protector does not tolerate corruption. His last anti-corruption sweep removed his own minister of public works.”

“Who coincidentally signed a petition warning that increasing government control over certain industries stifled innovation.” Hadrian spoke for the first time since Antony joined them. 

“I didn’t know you followed affairs in the Capital,” Wang said, his eyes definitely cold now. “However, your linking of the two separate events seems to suggest your news source might not be as accurate as it should be.”

“I’m waiting to hear you call it slander,” Hadrian said. 

Antony gave Hadrian a look of surprised approval as Wang scowled. 

“I’m sorry you think that, Master Lee. I would never think so low of you as to believe you would fall for such falsehoods.” His expression belied that statement. His eyes flashed in anger as he took a step towards Hadrian. “I would be happy to point you to some more … correct way of thinking.”

Hadrian felt more than saw Antony step in front of him, almost protecting him from Wang’s advance. 

“I’m sure Hadrian could come to his own conclusions without your help,” Antony said, his body blocking Hadrian from Wang looking daggers at Hadrian. “Now if you will excuse us, I really do need to speak with him alone.”

Antony grabbed Hadrian by the arm, almost dragging him away as Wang watched. Hadrian felt something lift, the sense of chill dissipating, as Antony brought him to one of the many alcoves on the side of the hall. 

Many guests utilized them. They provided quiet and intimacy, away from the main crush of the gala. Hadrian saw two women in what appeared to be a deep discussion, and another couple in the midst of what could only be a lovers’ embrace. 

Hadrian turned away abruptly, and his eyes met directly with Antony’s. They were bright and clear, taking all of Hadrian in. Hadrian’s gaze fell onto Antony’s lips; they were slightly chapped, yet Hadrian nonetheless had the urge to lean in and kiss them –

“I need to talk to you.”

The cool tone was laced with urgency, and that was what made Hadrian break off from his thoughts. 

“What?” Hadrian looked at Antony. They had barely exchanged a word at the party, aside from greeting each other when Hadrian first entered the Hall. 

“You need to be careful with Wang Yibiao,” Antony said, and there was no mistaking the note of warning. “He’s a dangerous man to trifle with. Many of those who crossed him have not met with a good ending.”

“Who is he? Some gangster? He told me he’s a scientist.”

“He’s the Commissioner of the Protectorate Liaison Office,” Antony said.

The Protectorate Liaison Office. It was the equivalent of an embassy on Clan territory. That would make his rank roughly that of an ambassador, and his purpose similar to that of Hadrian’s. 

“Oh. He didn’t introduce himself like that to me.” Of course he wouldn’t, Hadrian thought. Wang knew the tension between the Lee Clan and the Protectorate. He must have concealed it in order to try and get Hadrian to lower his guard. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think I revealed anything too damaging, did I? I mean, I only spoke the truth with him, and he’s very well aware of the tension between our respective parties anyways.”

“I don’t think you should be speaking with him unless you have someone else present,” Antony said. “He’s a wily old fox, and not to mention, far more experienced than you in matters of diplomacy…. And speaking of damaging information, I found traces of our network systems being infiltrated earlier today.”

Hadrian paled. He thought he had been careful in hiding his tracks. He tightened his mental barriers until all he felt was a faint ache from the strain.

“That sounds like a matter for concern,” Hadrian said, trying to affect a casual tone. 

“It is,” Antony said, his eyes boring into Hadrian’s. Really, the man had no business having such beautiful eyes when he was interrogating Hadrian. 

“It took a high amount of skill to break into our systems,” Antony continued. “Our people almost missed it, but for the fact that they happened to be doing a routine check of the networks at that moment.”

“That’s ... fortuitous.” Hadrian cursed his luck and his brother’s impatience. If Xander could have only waited until tomorrow instead of insisting on having the information now. “I don’t see why you’re telling me about this. I might be a cytech nerd, but I wasn’t involved with setting up the security system.”

“I know it was you who hacked into our system, Hadrian,” Antony said. “It was well-hidden, but our security analysis showed that the system was accessed from the console in your room.”

Hadrian tensed. He could deny it, but it was pointless; Antony obviously had evidence, or he would not confront him.

What was Antony planning with this? Did he intend to haul Hadrian before a court? Hadrian knew that any public charge, even if he denied it, would bring disgrace upon his head, along with his father’s wrath. 

There was a tickle at his ankle. 

Hadrian looked down to see a silver fox, its fur smooth like silk, its tails flicking and curling as it walked past his legs. 

She must be Antony’s Familiar, taking the form of a nine-tail fox. She sat and licked her paws, regarding Hadrian with interest. 

Hadrian sensed a gentle mental touch and relaxed his mental blocks just enough for the Familiar to note his appreciation. 

“This is Luminosity,” Antony said, his face softening. “My Familiar.”

“She’s beautiful,” Hadrian said, bending down to scratch behind her ears. She preened and arched her back against his face. 

He looked up to see Antony watching. 

“What?”

“Ah ... she likes you. I was afraid she might bite.”

Hadrian glanced at Antony. “Does she usually?”

Antony shrugged. “Only to those she doesn’t like.”

“I’m very friendly,” Luminosity said with a huff. She swished her tails as she stared at Hadrian. “Who’re you? His new lover? I approve; you’re much better looking than the last.”

Hadrian’s face reddened as Antony sputtered. “Luminosity! What have I told you about commenting on human relationship?”

She examined a paw. “Something about prying and privacy. Oh, I felt your mind, Hadrian. You’re from the Lee Clan, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he replied, his face still hot. 

“Lovely people, the Lees. A bit pompous and too tied to tradition, but we all have our flaws.” She stood and walked out the hall. “I’m going for a flight,” she called. “I’m sure you can survive without me.”

“Sorry, she doesn’t really know how to interact with humans that well,” Antony said, his face matching Hadrian’s in its blush. “She likes to say things.”

“I like her,” Hadrian said, his face gradually returning to normal. “Don’t try to change her; she’s perfect the way she is.”

“I don’t intend to,” Antony said. Then his expression turned serious. “Look, Hadrian, I don’t know why you were snooping around in our system, but don’t. If you want to know something, just ask me. If it’s information I can’t share with you, there’s probably a good reason for it. I won’t try to deceive you during your stay here. All I ask is that you trust me. And that you show me I can trust you.”

Hot shame washed over Hadrian. He had no realized how his actions would appear to others, especially to the target of his hacks. 

“I don’t distrust you,” he muttered. “I just got curious.”

“I understand,” Antony said. He still looked stern. “But that’s no reason to hack your host’s networks. Tell me, what did you want to find out?” 

“Well … more about you,” Hadrian said, his blush returning. 

“Oh.” Antony was nonplussed. “Well. I’m not that interesting, I can tell you that, despite whatever stories you might have heard about me. But if you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

“What’s your favorite food?” 

Hadrian wanted to hit himself as soon as that question left his mouth. He could not believe he had just asked such an inane question. Why his Familiar was named Luminosity was a better question. Or how Antony’s feelings about the current state of affairs in the Empire. Not his favorite food, which no doubt would be a simple dish like –

“There’s a bento shop by the magno-rail that is the best,” Antony said, the corners of his mouth quirking. “What’s yours?” 

“Popped-corn chicken,” Hadrian answered, not sure if this conversation was seriously taking place. “You’ll have to take me to this bento shop someday.”

“I will,” Antony said, his smile growing. “If you promise not to hack into our network again.”

“I promise,” said Hadrian, relieved now that he was not facing any punishment or exposure. He was curious about how he was discovered, though. “What tipped you off that it was me, though? I made sure to reroute it through several different servers and formed multiple node-connections to make sure it wasn’t traceable.”

He caught an uncomfortable feeling from Antony. 

“Ah … I – I’m not sure exactly. The tech people weren’t super clear about the details.”

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. “You were bluffing, weren’t you? You didn’t really catch me. You only had a suspicion, and I confirmed it for you.”

Hadrian had to grudgingly admire Antony for the way he played his hand. It was well done, the tone of urgency pitched with the exact amount of certainty and outrage, and not an iota of falsehood that gave him away. Hadrian should have picked it up earlier, if he wasn’t so caught off guard and focused on maintaining his own psychic shields. 

He glared at Antony. “I hope you enjoyed that.”

Antony looked back with a level stare. “I’m not the one who broke into his host’s computer systems. I shouldn’t be the one to feel guilty here.”

He was right. But still. “That wasn’t a nice thing to do,” Hadrian growled. “What happened to honesty and trust that you were espousing a few minutes ago?”

Discomfort finally flitted across Antony’s face. “It still holds true. My promise. I’m sorry if you feel that I tricked you in any way, but I had to find out if the breach was friendly or unfriendly.”

Hadrian was too incensed to speak. For a moment he was tempted to splash his glass of champagne across Antony’s face. 

But he still held onto enough self-control to realize however unethical Antony’s actions, Hadrian was the one in the wrong. 

With one final glare, he flounced away, aware of Antony’s eyes on his back. 

It was only after he left that Hadrian realized Antony had called him by his given name throughout the entire conversation.

~~  
Hadrian was still fuming days later when the time for the race between his brother and Antony came. He had resolutely refused to speak to Antony and avoided his eyes whenever their paths crossed. 

He had spoken of the incident to no one. Xander would only lecture him on being caught — despite the whole affair being his idea — and he had no one else on the Orbital to confide in. 

Hadrian slightly regretted being so furious with Antony. The man acted in the best interest of all involved and had made no effort to expose Hadrian. It was Hadrian’s own fault for being outwitted. 

But Hadrian could not forget how vulnerable and open he had been at that moment, and how he desperately wanted to believe Antony’s offer of friendship. To find out it was part of Antony’s machinations— that stung. 

Not that Hadrian thought the offer was false. 

But.

Hadrian pulled on the folds of his robes as he looked out at the stars. He and Master Cheung, along with a select few of the elite Cheung retainers, were on a viewing platform that felt like a luxury stateroom of a cruise liner. 

At least Antony limited knowledge Hadrian’s infraction to the two of them. Hadrian looked at the other viewers. Most wore colored pennants tied around their armbands; Hadrian learned from a passing server that it signified who they were supporting in the race. He supposed he should have worn one in the Lee colors, blue piped with white, in support of his brother.

He could see the both of them now, his brother and Antony, having a pre-race chat on the terminus as their respective Familiar starfighters circled around, silver streaking glinting off their hull. His brother had not mentioned a word of the recording after his initial viewing when he complained of how grainy the footage was. Hadrian scowled. Though no lasting consequences had risen, the entire affair still grated. 

There was a loud bang and then the race began. Loud cheering erupted from the stands floating in space, protected by a membrane that kept oxygen in and radiation out, and from certain members on the viewing platform. Hadrian wondered if he were expected to cheer too. The most enthusiastic applause seemed to emanate from those wearing the bauhinia on their arm; they most certainly supported their star, Antony Cheung. 

He also appeared to be the crowd favorite: Hadrian caught a glimpse of what looked like a giant poster of Antony’s face amongst the crowd.

Perhaps he did overreact, Hadrian brooded as he sat back in his chair. The glass of the viewing platform zoomed in whenever a particularly skillful maneuver was executed or a treacherous curve navigated. 

Hadrian counted at least twenty ships, each shining like stars against orange fumes of the giant as they sped along. The ships would circle the planet three times, through the crowded atmosphere. 

He knew better, but he was nervous. Like all gas planets, its atmosphere was unstable, with raging storms and cyclones, accompanied by intense lightning strikes. Hadrian had to remind himself that these pilots were highly skilled, his brother and Antony most of all. No one had been injured since the race’s eighth year, when a ship was lost to a vortex that swallowed it whole. They never found the wreck or the body.

Master Cheung looked over. “They’ll be alright,” he said kindly. He had evidently sensed Hadrian’s agitation. “All of them are experienced pilots, and we have medics at the ready.”

Hadrian nodded, motioning for a server to bring him a drink. Thankfully, most on the viewing platform were too engrossed in the race to pay him much heed. He sipped at the drink, making a face at its sourness. 

His nerves were on edge. Hadrian watched as Antony’s ship swerved to avoid the column of fumes, sparks illuminating against dark clouds. 

Hadrian bit his lip. He had to appreciate the adroitness of Antony’s move, the skill it took to pull it off. He could not take his eyes off the silver chrome of Luminosity, shining like its namesake in the stormy skies streaked with lightning.

His breath caught as a jagged flash of light cut close to Antony. Hadrian’s pulse was up, almost as though he were in the cockpit with Antony, his ears pressed against the g-force of the acceleration as the ship sped up. 

In the back of Hadrian’s head, he knew he should be watching for his brother’s ship, but Hadrian could not tear his attention away, not even for a moment, to look for it. All Hadrian could see was Antony’s ship as it made its away, through the storm clouds and the cyclones, past the lightning and the bursts of gases, as it approached the buoy that marked the finish line. 

He won. Antony won. Hadrian tapped the glass; the view widened to show that it was a close one. His brother was in second place, trailing just a little on Luminosity’s exhaust. Hadrian had a little moment of guilt when he realized he had not thought about his brother during the entire race.

Hadrian looked around. All around, people were celebrating. He narrowly avoided a spray of champagne to the face as others jumped and shouted. Master Cheung came over again.

“It was a good race,” he said to Hadrian. “Your brother did his best. And it was close. Very close. Just a hairbreadth more and he would have won.”

He was trying to console me, Hadrian realized. Master Cheung had evidently thought Hadrian was upset about his brother’s loss – as he should have been. Hadrian managed a weak smile.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s just a friendly race. I understand that. I’m sure my brother does too.”

“Do you want to accompany us as we present the champions with the awards?” Master Cheung asked. “Since we wanted to use this race as our announcement of our Clan’s alliance. It might be good if you made an appearance on the stage too.”

Hadrian wanted to refuse. He was perfectly fine sitting here watching. But he realized that this was what his stay in Fragrant Orbital would entail – demonstrating the strength of the relationship between the Lees and the Cheungs. 

Xander had done a good job, making a good showing with his effort in the race. Though their father might not see it that way, Hadrian knew that an outright victory for Xander might embarrass and antagonize the Cheungs, but by coming in a close second, Xander had proven that the Lees were a formidable force while avoiding the risk of an upset. 

The din deafened him as he emerged out of the spectator chamber of the viewing platform. The three victors of the race awaited them, Antony and his brother and a third man whose name escaped him. 

Hadrian hoped he was not expected to speak. An audience of this magnitude terrified him; though their distance was enough to insulate him from the press of their minds, the fear of this many people still struck at him. He looked over at Master Cheung, who was being prepped by the audio-techs for his speech. Thankfully, they were not making their way towards him.

He relaxed slightly. He saw the victors approaching the stage. Master Cheung began to speak.

“Today, we celebrate our pilots’ bravery and skill with the 41st race of the gas giant. We also celebrate our bond with our great ally, the Lee Clan.”

Hadrian spotted the pinched face of the Protectorate Commissioner, Wang Yibiao, watching from another viewing platform while Master Cheung continued. 

“What better way to demonstrate our alliance than this race, with both Antony, my son and Heir, and the Lee Heir, Xander, both doing so well in the race? The race demonstrates the spirit of sportsmanship, unity, courage, the values of which unite our two Clans...”

Antony caught Hadrian’s eye, winked. Hadrian could not stay angry. It was much too joyous an occasion for that, and Hadrian found himself too affected by the good mood. He grinned back. He found himself he did not mind the thousands who were watching as much. Indeed, he almost paid them no heed. 

A sharp glint caught his eye. Hadrian blinked. He must have imagined it. It must have been a trick of the light or a stray bot. Nothing of importance. The racing course and the audience stands were highly guarded: scores of Familiar starfighters patrolled the perimeter, while Watchmen armed with stun pistols and batons made regular rounds on the lookout for trouble. Less visible but no less deadly were the security AIs analyzing for any possible threat.

And yet … it nagged at Hadrian, this premonition. He shook his head, trying to clear the thought. It was impossible for anything to sneak past the security, he told himself. He was only reacting out of anxiety from being in front of the wrong.

What’s wrong?

The tool touch of Antony’s mind calmed Hadrian’s agitation somewhat. He looked at Hadrian from a few meters away. Hadrian shook his head. It’s probably nothing, he thought back. There was something in that corner – and he sent an image of what he saw to Antony – but it’s not there anymore. Must be a trick of the light. 

Antony frowned. That didn’t look like nothing, he replied mentally. 

A creeping sense of disquiet crawled up Hadrian’s spine. Then –

Out of reflex, Hadrian jumped at Master Cheung, instinct and his bio-enhancements providing the impetus. At the peripheral of his vision, he spotted Antony running towards them and the guards swarming up the stage, their weapons pointed at Hadrian.

He had no time to explain – he sent an image of what he saw to Antony, to Xander, to the all the psions present, broadcasting urgency with all his strength. The nonpsions would not be able to receive the message, but they would sense the warning too.

That briefest of warning was what saved them. 

Xander jumped into his fighter as soon as he received Hadrian’s thought, the blast of exhaust flooding the stage with waves of heat as he took off. Hadrian felt the hairs on his arms singe as he raised it to shield himself and Master Cheung’s body underneath. The Familiar sped towards the now visible meteor hurtling towards them.

Here was the moment which proved a Familiar and her psion’s worth. Fidelity darted, faster than the eye can see. Hadrian heard the guards’ shouts of anger mixed with the crowd’s scream as they caught sight of the meteor one by one. 

You need to use the missiles, Hadrian told his brother through their thought-link. The beamers won’t be strong enough to break the meteor fast enough.

You need to aim it now, Antony’s voice added. There was a skip of surprise as Hadrian realized Antony had somehow piggybacked onto his connection with his brother. Any closer and the debris will wreck the stands and the viewing platforms.

Xander paused for only a second before he fired.

Hadrian held his breath. 

A blinding flash and a rush of dry energy, so hot that it choked the air from Hadrian’s lungs, filled the space. He closed his eyes, seeing through his lids the outlines of the meteor cracking under a brilliant explosion as the missile met its target, the force of the impact heavy against his body. 

Hadrian exhaled as sound returned to the world in the form of debris crashing down the emptied stands. The Watchmen were efficient; the moment they had noticed the threat, they had evacuated the audience members. He raised his head, climbing gingerly off Master Cheung, who looked at him with a slightly dazed look.

“Sorry,” Hadrian said as he offered a hand to the older man. “I didn’t have time to explain. I saw something coming and I just –”

Master Cheung stopped Hadrian from babbling. “No need to explain. You just saved my life. And the lives of everyone here. You and your brother both.”

“I didn’t really,” Hadrian said, embarrassed, suddenly aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He could see Xander’s ship landing now, a distance away now that there was a throng of guards and others taking cover on the stage. He saw Antony’s usually collected expression break out in an approving smile. “I just moved out of instinct.” 

“Other people’s instinct would be to run as far away,” Antony said, coming up next to them. Luminosity lifted in the air, circling around the viewing platform, her wings fluttering, fanning away some of the rubble. “And you were the only one to catch something was wrong –”

There was a sudden explosion. The viewing platform rocked and lurched. Hadrian lost his balance, toppling over as Antony jumped to cover Hadrian. An audible crack sounded as the plastic buckled and bent under the heat. Hadrian heard someone shrieking as shrapnel showered down.

Luminosity had dived, the fighter craft using its wings to block the worst of the damage. There was a knot of guards rushing to the Cheung’s viewing platform. Hadrian’s hand was wet as he struggled to stay conscious. 

The last thing he was aware of was shallow breathing and a weight against his body before his world went black.

~~  
The attacks at the races had left the entire Orbital shaken. The first attack by meteor drop had failed thanks to Xander’s timely action and superb flying, and most of the attendees had been evacuated with upset nerves but no physical harm.

The second was more serious. While everyone’s attention were diverted by the meteor, a timed explosion went off on the Cheung’s viewing platform. It was only through the quick action of Antony’s Familiar that most managed to escape, fleeing the destruction aboard the ship’s extended wings as she acted as a makeshift ferry to the troopship rushing to the rescue. 

It was well-planned, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the first attack to take aim at the true target: the Cheungs and their top leadership. The explosive was rigged to the viewing platform sometime after it had arrived to the race course, timed perfectly to the meteor’s arrival. Hadrian was not sure if it was meant as a backup plan or if the perpetrator just wanted them thoroughly dead. 

Hadrian laid back on his pillows, wincing at the twinge as he shifted to a more comfortable position. The damage wasn’t severe and the casualties were light. Most, like Hadrian, were sent to the hospital for burns or broken bones while only one person, the Cheung’s deputy steward, needed intensive care. 

He had Antony to thank. Antony had knocked him down, covering Hadrian with his body until the worst of the blast passed.

Antony suffered worse injuries than Hadrian, with third-degree burns and abrasions from the shrapnel and rubble. The medics had rushed him away when Hadrian came to on the troopship, seeing a glimpse of their worried faces before unconsciousness reclaimed him. 

It was with relief that Hadrian learned Antony was fine. He had suffered no lasting damage, and because his bio-enhancements had been more extensive, he had overall recovered faster than Hadrian did. Hadrian heard he was out of the hospital already. 

Hadrian pressed a button to summon the medic. His mouth was dry and he needed some water. 

There were other beds around, but they were empty. Hadrian attempted to get out when no one came, but before he could stand, Antony was in the room, reaching out to push him back in bed.

“You need to stay in bed,” he said sternly. 

Hadrian growled. “How’re they letting you walk around already?” he demanded. “And I feel fine. I can walk. See?” He put his legs on the floor before Antony could do anything, pushed himself upright. 

And promptly fell, his legs giving out —

Antony caught him by the bicep before Hadrian’s face met the pavement, half pulling, half lifting him back onto the bed. 

“You don’t have the amount of bio-augmentation most psions have,” he said with a frown as he sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s why you’re not recovering as fast as everyone else. The medics gave you double the dosage of painkillers they did with everyone else; that’s why you’re not feeling anything right now.”

“My arm hurts,” Hadrian muttered, rubbing the area where Antony had grabbed him to prevent him from falling. He didn’t try to stand again, instead contenting himself with rearranging his pillows to his dissatisfaction. 

Antony watched in silence as Hadrian plumped the pillows. 

“Why don’t you have the same bio-enhancements everyone else does?” Antony asked curiously, taking the pillow out of Hadrian’s hands when it was on the verge of being ripped into shreds. 

“I don’t want to,” Hadrian said, looking away. It was the same question every time: why aren’t you doing what the others are doing? Why can’t you be more like everyone else?

“I didn’t like feeling like I’m more machine than man,” Hadrian said finally. “I feel like I’m already a cog in a great machine as it is. If I added any more augmentation, then I feel like I’m losing onto what’s left of my individuality. I don’t want to do something just because it’s expected of me.I want my existence to be my own, not dictated by anyone else or by convention. Maybe one day, when I need it, I’ll undergo the augmentation. But not right now.”

Hadrian had not meant to say so much. Particularly that part about his father. He hoped Antony would not press further; Hadrian was not ready to answer any more.

“Did you find out more about the perpetrators?” Hadrian asked instead. “What have you found out?”

“The attacks were most likely carried out by the same person,” Antony said. “A guard on the viewing platform was bribed and the AI systems protecting the course somehow failed the pick up the meteor’s approach.”

“Hacked?” For a moment, Hadrian remembered how he had managed to hack into the Cheung’s system himself and flushed. 

Antony shook his head. “No. No matter how good anyone is, they would have left traces if they broke into our defense systems.” He looked at Hadrian, evidently recalling the same episode. “No, this was completely different. The meteor was missed completely, almost as if it didn’t exist.”

That was troubling. If it weren’t a flaw with the defense systems, then it meant that whoever sent the meteor had stealth technology capable of evading the most advanced sensors currently available. 

“Do you have suspects?” Hadrian asked, making a note to himself to investigate the research on stealth technology. “I can think of one person in particular who would benefit if we all died in that blast.”

“He was there during when the asteroid hit,” Antony said. He didn’t even bother to ask whether Hadrian was thinking of Wang Yibiao, the Protectorate Commissioner.

The man would certainly have the resources and most definitely the motive for the attacks, Hadrian thought. But Antony was right: Hadrian saw Wang’s face watching during the award ceremony. But there was still that gap, small as it was, where Wang could have snuck away. 

“I know,” Antony said, reading Hadrian’s mind. “I have people looking into it. The entire Liaison Office is under surveillance.” He gave Hadrian a quick smile. “On a happier note, both you and your brother are being hailed as heroes on the Orbital.” 

Hadrian never felt less like a hero in his life, swathed under his covers and unable to stand without assistance. “It certainly was a memorable first race for my brother,” Hadrian said. His brother had visited the other day to say goodbye before he returned home. Xander had been uncharacteristically tender with Hadrian, even bringing him some water when Hadrian asked for it. “I’m sure he didn’t expect a live-fire exercise as part of a friendly race.”

“Those missiles are pretty impressive,” Antony said. “I think their payload is better than ours.”

Ah, Hadrian was reminded why each Clan guarded their secrets so jealously. Each had their own advantages, whether it be in Familiar Bonding, personnel training, or technological superiority. But when compared, these generally balanced each other out. Hadrian thought it silly, this competition. It hindered their ability to be an effective counterforce to the Protector and the central government. 

“Don’t worry,” Antony said. “I’m not trying to pry. Although … an effective alliance is founded on mutual trust.” He gave Hadrian a sheepish grin. It was the first time Hadrian had seen Antony other than the aloof and proud aristocrat. “And I should apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to trick you about the system breach. Not that I’m saying I’m in the wrong. But the way I approached it –”

“Apology accepted,” Hadrian interrupted. “And it’s my turn to apologize. I should have just asked. It was an unacceptable violation of your hospitality.”

“Let’s start over,” Antony said. He held out his hand. “Friends?”

Hadrian shook it. “Friends.” 

Antony stood. “I should get going and let you rest. But. I was thinking…” He suddenly became remarkably shy. He shuffled his feet, avoiding Hadrian’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“I did promise you I’d show you where the best bento on Fragrant Orbital is. If you’re still interested, that is.” Hadrian might have imagined it, but he could have sworn a faint trace of color crept up Antony’s face. He actually sounded nervous. 

And suddenly Hadrian was self-conscious, too. Hyperaware of his hands lying awkward on the bed, the itchiness of the bandage, how messy his hair was. 

“I would love to. Go with you, that is. It would be an honor.” 

Antony looked relieved. “Great. I’ll check with the nurse when the medics plan to discharge you.” He left with a bounce in his step.

Hadrian grinned to himself. He felt light, like he could float above his bed. 

He liked Antony, despite their rocky start. There was more to the man than the cool perfection he exuded upon first glance; his sense of humor, his compassion and empathy … Antony was much warmer than he let on. 

And the fact that they could communicate wordlessly so easily.... Even between psions, it often took years of training and interaction before a pair had the mental connection as strong, as seamlessly as Hadrian and Antony shared. Most could not. Even Hadrian’s link with his brother lacked that effortless quality. Not to mention, subconsciously Hadrian had trusted Antony enough to open his mind and allow him to overhear and even enter the psychic conversation he had with Xander.

There was also how attractive Antony was. Hadrian blushed. He wasn’t a stranger to romance or sex; he could not have spent the amount of time he did in the networks without coming across pornography, and he would often overhear the other disciples on the Clans talking about their latest crush or conquest. But it was the first time he ever felt that desire, that need, to be held and kissed by another. 

He saw the door open with the nurse bringing in a tray of unappetizing hospital food. Well, Hadrian supposed he had to endure this for now. At least he had an appointment with Antony for the best bento on the Orbital to look forward to. 

~~

There were political troubles in the Protectorate. Every day came more disturbing reports of a power-mad ruler purging his court of any officials who dared criticized his new, aggressive vision for the known galaxy. Hadrian never cared much about politics beyond the abstract; life on the Clanship was relatively removed that events never seemed to directly affect him. 

But they did now.

Waves of refugee flooded Fragrant Orbital, fleeing persecution by the Protector and his government. Every day, more bedraggled migrants were dropped off by the cosmoliners. Some wore the torn strips of peasant garb, others were in dirt-streaked silks and furs. People from all walks of life sought asylum, and Master Cheung and Antony were often called away to manage the flow.

Commissioner Wang visited the Residency almost every day to persuade Master Cheung to repatriate them to the Protectorate. Hadrian caught a glimpse of him sometimes, dripping in a mix of pugnacity and self-righteousness. Hadrian realized that attitude for what it was, a form of armor, to protect the man from the realities of the world. 

But no armor could withstand Antony’s mix of clever thinking and brutal honesty. More than once, Hadrian heard a roar of anger from the corridor as the Commissioner stormed out of the Great Hall, face red with fury. Hadrian had to smother his laugh to avoid being caught eavesdropping. 

“I don’t understand why they get so offended,” Antony said. “They really don’t like the truth being told to them.”

True to his word, Antony had taken Hadrian to his favorite bento shop. It was next to the magno-rail station across from a grand building that soared into the sky in the form of a meat cleaver that served as headquarters to one of the largest banks in the Protectorate. 

They had walked around the station, Antony pointing out various spots of interests and their history before they settled in all for dinner. 

Hadrian scarfed down the last bit of his rice. “You do have a way of wording things that can be a bit ... sharp.”

Antony placed a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded. You don’t think I’m a silvered tongue orator?”

Hadrian laughed. “Hmm ... definitely not.” He eyed Antony’s pork rib bento. “Are you going to finish that?”

Antony pushed it towards him. “Help yourself.”

Hadrian dug in gleefully. “Thanks. I probably should’ve ordered this instead.” 

“You seemed to have enjoyed what you ordered,” he pointed out. 

“Mrue mbut mthis grood too.”

Antony laughed “What?”

“Sorry,” Hadrian aid, swallowing. “Ate too fast. I suppose anything is better than hospital food.”

“I don’t know you eat so much and stay so thin,” Antony said. His voice was fond as he looked at Hadrian. From a distance, the sky beyond the membrane sparkled, lit by the spaceships and the stars, the innumerable worlds of the galaxy. Their shine reflected in Antony’s eyes. 

Their faces were close, and in this proximity, Hadrian could see that one of Antony’s teeth was endearing chipped, a feature that not at all detracted from his features. He blinked, once, twice, and licked his lips. He moved closer and Antony instinctively mirrored the movement; Hadrian smelled his sweat mixed with the salty tang from the life support —

“Sir!” A Watchman ran up to their table, stopped, panted. Antony broke away, his expression annoyed and confused. Hadrian was left feeling unfulfilled and disappointed. 

“What is it?” he barked. 

“There’s been a disturbance, sir,” the young Watchman said. He was sweaty-faced and sported a pimply countenance. “In the western district near the Academy.”

Antony looked at Hadrian. “It must be serious if they need me. Do you know your way back to the Residency?”

“Yes, but why – hang on, you can’t just leave me behind!” Hadrian pouted at him. The Watchman adopted an apologetic appearance and pretended not be eavesdropping. 

“It’s not a game,” Antony said with exaggerated patience. “It could be very dangerous. I can’t have you coming along and risking you getting hurt.”

“It seems very dangerous, young sirs,” the young Watchman added helpfully, before he remembered he was supposed to be pretending not to listen. 

“Yes, thank you,” Hadrian said with a sharp look at the man. The man glanced back innocently. 

“Well,” Hadrian said. “I don’t know the way back to the Residency, as it turns out. And you won’t risk me running amok on the Orbital, will you? I might get lost. Or worse. So I guess you’ll just have to let me come along.”

“This could be dangerous, Hadrian” Antony rose from the table. “The Watch doesn’t usually need me for this sort of thing unless they can’t handle it themselves. You’re our guest and a diplomatic representative. I can’t let you come to any harm—”

“I’ll be fine,” Hadrian said, also rising from the table. He gave the unfinished bento box a final longing look. “Besides, it’ll be educational. Nothing beats hands-on experience for – well, whatever the incident is. And I really don’t remember the way back.” 

“You literally take the Escalator through Central, Hadrian. You can see the building from here,” Antony pointed, making one more attempt to dissuade Hadrian. 

Hadrian ignored it. “Lead the way, officer.”

The disturbance occurred at a well-heeled residential district, within walking distance from where they were eating. It was an area of the city where mostly academics and scholars resided, being so close to the City Academy. 

“How did you find us so fast?” Hadrian asked the young Watchman as they jogged to   
where a large house had been cordoned off by the Watch. It was brightly lit, and nosy neighbors thronged at the sides. 

“Master Antony frequents that place a lot,” the Watchman answered. He stopped to swipe his identity card at the checkpoint sectioning off the area. “We knew he wasn’t at the Residency tonight, so it was the first place we checked.”

“Man of habit, are you?” Hadrian teased as they arrived at the front of the house. It was nothing extraordinary, simply a home for a relatively wealthy man.

“Who lives here? What happened?” Antony demanded of the lead officer. “And why hasn’t anyone entered?”

“The house belongs to a Professor Hsu, sir,” the officer said. “He’s listed as a Professor of Archaeology specializing in Old Dynasty artifacts at the Academy. Around an hour ago, the neighbors reported a scream and loud noises like fighting inside. We haven’t been able to enter the house. We tried all the entrances, but they’ve all been sealed from the inside.” 

Antony’s brows furrowed. “You didn’t try to break in.”

“No, sir. We’re not sure what we might find if we enter too haphazardly.”

Hadrian looked at the door. It was locked tight. The security system was the newest model. Any attempts at forced entry would trigger the alarm, which in turn would result in a triple seal of a plasteel barrier and a ray field repelling both projectiles and energy blasts.

“You can’t break through with brute force,” Hadrian said. He explained about the security system. “You’ll have to look for a weakness in the system itself.”

“We don’t have time for a cydev to come,” the lead officer said in frustration. “Our equipment aren’t sophisticated enough if what you say about the lock is true. Our AIs won’t be able to crack it. They’ve been in there for over an hour. Who knows what we might find if we wait any longer?”

“Hand me your handheld.”

Hadrian looked at the screen running the lines of code. The officer was right; the AI analyzing the Professor’s security was not sophisticated enough to break the programming. It did, however, highlight several areas of potential weaknesses that could be exploited. 

Hadrian tapped a key, inserting a character that rendered one line of code nonsense. 

The handheld beeped. Its screen filled with error messages as the function Hadrian voided set off a chain reaction.

Hadrian gave the handheld back to the officer as the light above the doorhandle turned green, signaling it was unlocked. They stared at him. 

“Let’s go,” he said. The rest followed him in. Inside was well-lit, and evidence of a struggle was everywhere – torn up cushions, overturned tables, smashed up chairs. Hadrian stepped gingerly over a piece of wood as the officers checked for any signs of life.

A bang came from upstairs. Hadrian looked at Antony, who motioned for silence. More sounded, and a muffled cry as they followed Antony, treading softly up the stairs. Whatever was happening did not stop; it got louder.

Hadrian shared a worried glance with the Watchmen. It sounded nasty. They were muffled blows to the body, and the strangled cries were akin to ones uttered by a someone in pain. Hadrian could feel the fear and pain emanating from where the noise originated. 

Antony kicked down the door. An awful sight awaited. A man knelt, blindfolded, his skin stripped bare and raw, blood trickling out the of the side of his mouth. His mouth was gagged with a cloth stained red, and bruises were already purpling on the parts of his body where his clothing had been ripped. The other man in the room was mid-punch when he saw the intruders.

He had a nondescript appearance, a blandly pleasant face that could belong to anyone, and an average height. A man no one would spare a second glance. Dressed neatly in a black tunic, he stood out in the otherwise colorful room. He gave Hadrian a contemptuous smile and backed away from the man. 

Someone else was in the room. Somehow, a part of Hadrian was not surprised to see Wang Yibiao, the Protectorate Commissioner, standing to the side of the room. He watched, with the attitude others had when viewing a dance performance, as though the scene unfolding before him was simply entertainment.

“Hello,” he said genially. “I was wondering when you would show up. Though I didn’t expect both Master Antony and Master Hadrian to both be in attendance.”

The young Watchman advanced, his gun out. “The house is surrounded,” he said, his posture tense, his face taut with anger. “You have nowhere to go. And even your diplomatic status won’t protect you. We caught you in the act.”

Both of them, to their credit, did not panic, but slowly moved, falling back to create space between themselves and the gun. From his belt, the bland-looking man drew a short blade with a rippling pattern. It gleamed, bright and deadly, its sharpness wicked in the light. 

Hadrian felt a chill at sensing no panic, no resigned wariness. Only an annoyance at being inconvenienced. This man was no ordinary thug. His body was loose and poised, knife held in a manner that evidently showed his familiarity with it.

He was a trained assassin, with all the skills that implied. 

Antony stepped forward, his footing sure and steady. He struck, his body a blur, as his arm slashed toward the assassin.

The two Watchmen trained their guns on Wang as Hadrian fell back behind them, recognizing the danger that he was unequipped to handled. 

The assassin managed a parry, the steel ringing a clear note as the blades against Antony’s gauntlet. The assassin was forced to step back from the force of the blow. 

Antony advanced. All his attention was now on the assassin. He had the longer reach with his arms, but that did not necessarily grant an advantage in such a tight space. 

The assassin feinted to his left, an odd maneuver, then turned with stunning speed to cut at Antony’s right. Hadrian gasped; it seemed to have landed.

But Antony leapt back in time. He was breathing hard. 

They each backed off, circling each other warily, like a jackal and a lion over the carcass of their quarry.

Hadrian kept an eye on Wang, who, though he had displayed no signs of fear, had prudently moved to the side, his hand on the cuff of the injured man they had been torturing.

That man must be the Professor and the owner of the house, Hadrian realized. What did these two want with him? What did the Protectorate want with him? Wang would not be so egregious had not his masters ordered it. 

Hadrian stepped out from behind the Watchmen, towards Wang, intent on trying to catch a glimpse of his thoughts.

“It’s not going to work,” Wang said, singsong, as his hand tightened on his captive. “I spent my entire career around psions, studying you, analyzing you. You really think it would be so easy for you to breach my mind?” 

“Fall back,” Antony ordered Hadrian in a low voice.

Hadrian ignored him. “Even if you do manage to escape, the entire Orbital will be after you. You’ll be hunted like the rat you are. Better to give up now and keep your dignity. Call back your dog.”

“Hmm … No. I don’t think I shall.” He pushed his captive forward and Hadrian leapt forward instinctively to catch the man. Confusion reigned as the two Watchmen had to run to provide Hadrian with cover. Wang took the advantage of the momentary chaos, jumping out of the window with a crash. Explosions echoed, shaking the entire foundation of the house. 

He must have set off the detonations as distraction. Loud cries cut through the boom, and Hadrian heard sirens in the distance growing closer. 

The assassin turned, grabbing Hadrian by the scruff of his collar. He laughed, cold and chilling. “If you come any closer, I’ll kill your friend,” he told Antony, who had lurched toward them. 

Hadrian swallowed as the cold steel pressed against his robes. He knew the tip could cut through both fabric and flesh within seconds.

“Or …” the assassin mused. “You can come and try to save him. I’m always curious about the fabled reflexes of the psions. I’m curious to see if your enhancements are better than mine.”

Hadrian forced himself to remain still as the blade’s pressure increased warningly. Unlike Wang, the assassin did not bother to barricade his mind. Hadrian sensed amusement, wary respect for Antony – and no fear for the consequences. 

Hadrian knew unlike Antony, his own bio-enhancements were not enough to match the assassin. Not to mention his lack of combat training. Hadrian didn’t know how to fight.

But he still had his wits.

Hadrian noticed they were close to the broken window where Wang had jumped out. The cold draft hit the exposed skin where his robes had been cut.

Hadrian had an idea.

He shifted suddenly towards the space. The movement took the assassin completely by surprise, and Hadrian met no resistance as he drove his shoulder, pushing the man out the opening, his shoes crunching on shattered glass.

Hadrian felt a sharp pain as the knife slash, in final defiance as the assassin fell.

There was a sickening crunch as the body hit the pavement. Hadrian didn’t need to look to know that the assassin was seriously injured, perhaps mortally.

Hadrian had no time to do so, as his foot lost its purchase on the sill.

He was falling – the night air itself pushed against him, though to no avail; it could not buttress his fall, and he knew he would smash his head open –

Then he was floating. A strong arm grabbed him, hauled him up and held him tight against a warm chest. Hadrian felt like he was being lifted to the clouds, his body flush against Antony’s as they fell in reverse onto the floor of the house. 

“Thanks,” Hadrian gasped out. He stood up and dusted himself off. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I told you to fall back,” Antony said. His voice shook, and he made a visible effort to control himself. “Have you any idea how I would feel if he hurt you?”

A thrill shot through Hadrian’s body. “Sorry,” he repeated, looking at Antony. “I just wanted to help.”

Antony’s expression softened. “I know.” His expression hardened again. “We got one. And Wang can’t get too far away. By now, the entire patrol should have saw him jump out the window. Even if they don’t know what happened up here, they’ll detain him for questioning.” He checked his wristcomm. “They lost him in the chaos. But they got the assassin. He’s still alive. Barely.”

Hadrian felt a chill. Antony’s face was set with cold fury. For the first time Hadrian understood why others saw him and feared him.

They moved slowly, Antony supporting Hadrian as they made their way to the two Watchmen checking over the professor. 

To say he looked unwell was an understatement. The professor was barely conscious, his bruised face and mouthful of broken teeth harshly visible in the light. He groaned as the young Watchman held him up while the other ran a scanner over him. 

There were more coming with a stretcher to take him away. Hadrian could feel the pain and panic from the man pulsing in his own mind like a gaping wound.

“You’ll be fine,” Antony said, grasping the professor’s hand as they loaded him onto the stretcher. “Those men won’t be hurting you anymore.”

“Have to stop them,” the professor gasped out. “Can’t let the Protectorate get to it.”

Hadrian frowned. He limped forward. “Get to what?”

“The Old Dynasty ruin,” the professor said, his words slurring as they injected the anesthetic drug into his veins. “There’s technology in there that would be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief as the professor mercifully fell unconscious, the latticework of hurt vanishing from his mind. The reprieve was only temporary, replaced by worry tight in Hadrian’s chest. 

“We need to find it before Wang does,” Hadrian said. Old Dynasty technology was far more advanced than anything any faction in the galaxy currently possessed. Even now, they barely understood it, and could only operate some of the remnant machinery left by their forefathers through reverse-engineering. For the Protectorate to find it would be a disaster. Even if they lacked the ability to use it, their studies could yield dangerous results. 

Like insight into the link between psions and Familiars. And how to break it.

Antony looked at Hadrian, placing his hand on Hadrian’s. “We will. Together.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hadrian still felt nervous. Despite Antony’s reassurance that they would all be interested in hearing what he had to say, Hadrian was uncomfortable addressing the Cheung’s entire top staff. There were also a few Familiars of some of the top officers: a single-legged bird, a monkey, and a stag. 

The Situation Room did not help with its rotating projection of the entire star system. The three-dimensional representation gave Hadrian vertigo; the stars spun around the table, with the lights dimmed to enhance the finer details of the model. 

Hadrian rubbed his eyes. The flashing lights that delineated the planets jarred his vision, particularly in the dark. 

Hadrian was not sure why Antony insisted he be here. There were talking … talking … more talking. The unpleasant combination of boredom and anxiety did nothing to settle his headache.

Besides, his presence was superfluous: they had already listened to the report from the Chief of the Watch, and heard from Antony himself. Hadrian had no new information or insight to add. Wang Yibiao was caught in the act of torturing a citizen of Fragrant Orbital. Not only was it in violation of all common decency and morality, it also violated several agreements the Cheungs had with the central government. 

They had not found Wang yet. Hadrian sensed the tense frustration under the Watch Chief’s veneer of professionalism. The case had been sensationalized by the media, dominating the headlines. There was speculation that the battle group in the sector was here specifically to facilitate Wang’s escape.

Hadrian was more concerned with what Wang was looking for. It made sense that there was an Old Dynasty fortress in the system; the gas planet had been exploited far longer than the Cheungs’ arrival; Fragrant Orbital itself was built on the hulks of Old Dynasty ships.

But unlike those abandoned spacecrafts, an old space fort that survived centuries of warfare would probably be constructed of hardier stuff, and its facility better preserved. 

There was a slam at the table. 

“We should be chasing after Wang and fortifying our defenses instead of chasing fairy tales!”

That was Claudia Meng, the director for the Cheung’s logistics network. Her outburst caused several of the Familiars in the room to pause momentarily from their preening. Antony stared her down.

“We have over a few hundred thousand transport coming and leaving the Orbital every few hours,” he said. “The Watch is doing every it could to trace him, but one person is even more difficult than a ship to track. And that might be what he wants. By the time we expended all our resources on finding him, the Protectorate will have found the space fortress by then.”

“So you believe the space fortress is real?” Master Cheung drummed his hands on the table, his Familiar, the one in the stag forma, moving to look at one star in particular. 

“It must be,” she said. Hadrian always found it interesting, that convention referred to all Familiars in the female despite the forma bodies they selected. Then again, computers don’t necessarily have genders, and it was a shorthand of human convenience to ascribe them anthropomorphic qualities. Or even animal qualities. Familiars certainly were neither. 

The Familiar turned to look at Hadrian. And their psychic abilities were far more sensitive to any human’s. “My analysis outputs a 95% positive chance that the Old Dynasty space fortress is real, based on the Professor’s research and the actions of his attackers. They would not have questioned him with such tactics if they had not been motivated by urgency.”

“That just means the Protectorate believe the fortress exits,” Meng pointed out. “It doesn’t mean that the fortress actually does.”

“The professor’s research is based on archaeological findings, along with surviving Old Dynasty documents that indicate the fortress is very real,” the Familiar said, eyeing Meng impassively. “The degraded memory on the foundation of the platform of the Orbital also indicates that there was a military force in the system that prevented piracy and smuggling.” She hesitated. “There is also damaged data from my own systems that corroborate the possibility. Though I have factored the fact that it is impaired accordingly into my calculations.”

Meng subsided in silence as Antony spoke again. “I think we should go look for it. The space fortress. In the meanwhile, Claudia does have a point. We do need to bolster our system defenses in case the Protectorate battle group has hostile intentions. Our approach needs to be two-pronged, to prevent us being caught off guard.”

“Alright.” Master Cheung looked at his son. “Do you know where, or whereabouts, this space fortress is?”

“Ah … no.”

“We don’t have time,” Meng said, Antony’s confession adding fresh fuel. “I looked at some of the professor’s research too, and it’s encrypted that even our best hackers and cryptographers would need days to break. The Professor is still in a critical state and unable to even feed himself, let alone walk us through our research.”

“I broke through it.” Hadrian spoke for the first time. “I broke through the Professor’s encryption.” 

Everyone turned to stare at him. Hadrian suddenly became aware of the machinery’s whirl as the projector continued to display the Fu system in its entirety. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he said defensively. “I just got curious.”

“You’ve done something our best analysts haven’t been able to do,” Meng said incredulously.

Hadrian shrugged. “I’m sure I had more free time on my hands compared to them. They probably had other work to do.”

“How did you get it?” Master Cheung’s Familiar asked. “I thought we had secured all the information from the Professor’s research.” 

“I took a copy of his papers and files when they left me in the study to wait,” Hadrian admitted sheepishly. “I’m involved in this; you can’t deny my right to find out what happened.”

“Actually –” began Meng, but Antony cut her off.

“What did you find?” he asked, raising a hand to forestall any interruptions. “Do you know where the space fortress is?”

Hadrian nodded. “I’m not able to perform an analysis like Master Cheung’s Familiar did,” he gave her a glance of acknowledgement, “but the Professor is a pretty coherent writer, nothing like the usual academese, and it was easy to read through his work. It’s fascinating, actually –”

“The location, please,” Antony said, but he was smiling. 

“It’s off the moon of the fourth planet in this system,” Hadrian said. “It has something to do with the gravity of the moon and the energy requirement in addition to its central position within the system to interdict the flow of traffic.”

“We’ve never found anything there before,” Master Cheung said, a frown on his face. “None of our probes.”

“Old Dynasty technology is far more advanced than the present’s,” his Familiar said. “It could be that the probes lacked sensors capable of detecting the fortress.” 

“In that case, I don’t think we can devote the amount of resources I was originally planning,” Master Cheung said. “That’s going instead to preparing for a conflict with the Protectorate. I think perhaps a psion and a Familiar pair could go. A Familiar might be able to find remnants of Old Dynasty better.”

The stag agreed. “Old Dynasty technology and psionic abilities have a unique connection,” she said. “And a Familiar is far more capable, not only in her sensors, but also the endurance if it takes longer to find the fortress.”

“I volunteer,” Antony said. “There’s nothing pressing on the Orbital that requires my attention, and I think it’s better if more experienced psions are helping prepare our defenses and evacuation plans.”

“Alright,” his father said. “Antony, you go to search for the fortress. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to gain some experience too. I don’t expect the central government will press too hard here, so I think your old man can handle the matter without your help.”

Antony smiled. “I hope so. I don’t want to come back and find the Orbital a burning battlefield.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Meng said. 

“I’m coming with you,” Hadrian said quickly. “To find the Old Dynasty fortress.”

“No!” Antony looked adamant. “It might be dangerous. You already went above and beyond; you can’t put yourself in harm’s way any more than you need to.”

“I’m involved in this already,” Hadrian argued. “And I’m the only one who read through the Professor’s work fully. Even if we gave it to another analyst to parse, it would still waste more time than we already have.”

“You’re a diplomatic representative,” Antony argued. “What do you think will happen if you were hurt? How do you think your father will react, especially when we need his friendship more than ever?”

Hadrian privately thought his father would be more annoyed at the embarrassment of his son being injured than being outraged at the Cheungs, but he only said: “I’m sure you’re more than able to keep me safe. Besides, it’s not like we’re going into battle. And I could do with some practical experience too.” 

Antony was about to object some more, but Master Cheung intervened. 

“You should go,” Master Cheung said to Hadrian, giving his son a quelling look. “You were the one who managed to read through the entire research and your insight might be helpful in finding the fortress. Not to mention, I heard of how you managed to break the lock on the Professor’s house. Maybe your expertise would be an aid after you find the fortress, too.”

It was easy compared to your security system, Hadrian wanted to add, but now was not the time for such a revelation. Antony caught his eye and Hadrian knew they were thinking the same. 

Hadrian had to admit he had another motive: to spend more time with Antony. He liked being around Antony, speaking with him. He still recalled Antony’s chest firm against his body as he fell on top of him back at the Professor’s house.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. He was attracted to Antony.

He sneaked a glance at the man, hoping that Antony did not pick up his thoughts. Antony seemed to be stewing in impotent frustration at his father’s decision to allow Hadrian to go. 

Hadrian grew annoyed at that. He knew he would be an asset, not a burden, and he knew Antony enjoyed his company too. Hadrian was not sure if Antony was concerned about Hadrian’s safety or fighting to deny their mutual draw towards each other.

But that was unfair. Antony was right: the mission had unknown dangers, and Hadrian lacked both the augmentation and the combat training in the event of danger. 

But he had other skills balancing out those deficiencies, and besides, his mind was decided. Hadrian was set on going.

“If I promise to listen to everything you tell me and follow your every order, would you feel more comfortable taking me?” Hadrian asked, in an effort to placate Antony. “It’s your mission; think of me as your subordinate.”

Antony snorted. “And you think I’ll believe that? You never listen to me.” But he broke into a reluctant smile. “But everyone here heard that. You promise to run when I tell you to run, hide when I tell you to hide, and I’ll take you with me.”

Hadrian gave a dramatic sigh. Several of the other officers in the room broke into a chuckle.

“I promise,” Hadrian said. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to if there’s danger. If. There’s danger.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Antony said. “How fast can you get ready for our flight?”

~~

Really fast, as it turned out. Hadrian took only his handheld and a small stun pistol from the Cheung’s armory along. He did not need anything else. 

They stood on a hangar looking out at the stars on the spaceport. In the distance, Hadrian could see the star, fingers of light slowly creeping across, lighting a glinting path across the dark velvet sky. 

Luminosity waited above the tarmac, its wings aloft as it glided, using the thin oxygen held in the spaceport. It created a draft in the hot and sticky air. 

Luminosity landed before them, its wings stilling.

“Can I touch it?” Hadrian remembered that touching another’s Familiar was an intrusion unless one was on intimate terms. 

“You’ll be riding it soon enough,” Antony laughed. “But yes, you can touch it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hadrian breathed in awe. He had seen it in action before, and he was no stranger to Familiars or fighter crafts, but Luminosity evoked deadly grace. It seemed to hum at Hadrian’s touch, like a cat purring in approval.

“Have you ever flown in one before?” Antony asked.

Hadrian shook his head. “I’m a poor pilot. And I didn’t even know Familiar ships could seat more than one.”

“Barely,” Antony stroked the ship’s wing. “You’ll … ah ….”

“What?”

“You’re small enough to fit, but you’ll have to sit on my lap.”

Hadrian should have thought of that. Luminosity had no copilot seat in its tiny cockpit, only for the pilot, with just enough room for miscellaneous supplies that one needed to survive in deep space. 

Hadrian sweated at the thought of being in so intimate a contact with Antony, even as his heart treacherously leapt.

“That should be fine.” Hadrian tried to affect a nonchalant tone. “I’m probably light compared to you.”

“My bioaugmentation won’t even let me feel the difference,” Antony said, his face also a little red. “Besides, we’ll be in space. There’s no gravity in space, and Luminosity’s too small to need any artificial gravity.”

“Well,” Hadrian said, “Then I suppose there won’t be any problem at all.”

Antony climbed into the cockpit, Hadrian after him. 

Hadrian crammed in, settling on the hard muscle of Antony’s thighs, trying not to settle too firmly down, sitting as lightly as he could. Antony’s arm reached around him to tap at the control panel.

Lights flicked on and holo-screens of figures and charts filled the cockpit as Antony entered his hand into the pilot socket. Hadrian moved to accommodate – and was forced back to chest with Antony.

“Alright?” Antony’s voice was a little breathy, and Hadrian could sense embarrassment and desire coursing through the other man –

Hadrian forced himself to block. They still surged, these emotions, but now they belonged to him rather than someone else. 

“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Hadrian said, forcing himself to concentrate. He thought of the Professor’s face, bruised and battered, as the professor whispered his last instructions before being rushed off. This was no time to indulge in fantasies; they had a task to accomplish. An important one.

Hadrian felt Antony shift behind him.

“You’re right,” he said, catching Hadrian’s thought. “We need to focus on the mission.” He gave a mental signal to Luminosity. “Hold on.”

They took off. 

It was exhilarating to fly with Antony. Adrenaline pumped through Hadrian as the ship lifted vertically and accelerated. Hadrian grabbed Antony’s wrist instinctively at the bump when a ship jumped space. Hadrian saw Antony’s grin out of the corner of his eye. Hadrian’s breath catching had nothing to do with flying – his thumping heart almost hurt, as it soared with the ship.

“So what do you think?” Antony asked.

Hadrian stared at the screens surrounding them, data running too fast to read. He didn’t need to; the Familiar intelligence would handle the information, adjusting whatever factor of the flight as necessary as it did most of the routine piloting.

Hadrian knew the theory behind Familiar ships. It was still impressive to see one in action.

“It’s beautiful,” he said finally. He spoke with a wistful note. “I’ve never flown in one before, despite being around them all my life.” The ship’s structure were more complicated than he had realized, underneath its deceptive simplicity, and he marveled at the engineering that built it. While most of the skills that the Old Dynasty used to construct it had been relearned, what the present level of expertise could achieve was still a pale imitation. 

Not to mention the mind behind that flew the ship right now. 

Though artificial intelligence now was capable of acting on its own, it lacked the ability to learn independently or develop the way Familiar intelligence could. Scientists theorize that it was the psychic bond the Familiar forms with her psion that allows the Familiar to understand her environment in such a humanlike way. 

“You’re going to pilot one eventually,” Antony said. His body was relaxed, like he was lying in repose. “All the Lees do. There’s a reason why your family as a reputation as superb Familiar pilots.”

Hadrian wished he shared Antony’s certainty. It wasn’t that he was a poor pilot; he had managed to pass the training course with decent marks, though he was most definitely not on the same level as his brother or Antony. But he could not form a connection with any of the unbonded Familiars that the Lees had available. No one understood why: not himself, not the shrinks, and not least of all, his father. 

“You will,” Antony said, his voice full of conviction. “Besides, so what if you can’t pilot one? Doesn’t make you a bad person. And doesn’t mean your worth is any more diminished.”

Hadrian wasn’t so sure his father would agree with Antony. It was a time-honored tradition that all psions – and all Lees – bonded with a Familiar. Not only that, but a psion without a Familiar was like a pilot without a ship – useless. 

“How long have you bonded with Luminosity?” Hadrian asked, changing the subject. “Are you familiar with her yet?”

Not really, Luminosity’s voice rang in his head. Antony doesn’t really know how to handle me. He goes far too slow. He flies slower than a granny taking a stroll in the park.

I do not! Antony’s indignant thought ran in Hadrian’s mind. We just won the race last week. How can you say I don’t go fast enough?

That was all me, came Luminosity’s smug voice. My abilities are far superior to anyone else’s, human or computer. 

She’s modest, Hadrian thought to Antony, quirking a smile.

Human sarcasm is wasted on me, Luminosity told them. Besides, I only speak the truth as my assessment determines.

Hadrian laughed out loud. “I like her,” he told Antony. 

You’re not so bad either, Luminosity told Hadrian. He’s a keeper, she said to Antony. You need to learn from him.

Like what? Antony responded, his amusement bright in Hadrian’s mind.

His appreciation of me. 

Hadrian almost snorted. But his mood lightened. Being around these two, it took Hadrian’s thoughts off the anxieties of the future. He didn’t worry about how Antony or Luminosity would perceive him, did not feel like he was constantly on display, to impress them the way being around others pressured him to do. 

But he wanted to anyways. 

“I’m inputting the coordinates for where the Professor thinks the space fortress is,” Hadrian said aloud. “We should be there in just under ten minutes.”

The ship shuddered as they exited jumpspace. Panels beeped and figures flashed as they came upon a small planet that appeared as a blue dot. It grew ever larger as they approached. 

“According to the professor’s notes, the space fortress should be in orbit around Planet IV,” Hadrian said, reading off his handheld. “It might be clouded or otherwise hidden from the naked eye.”

“My sensors detect nothing,” reported Luminosity over the intercom, “but my calculations estimates that something is in the vicinity.”

“Why?” Antony asked. “And why are you using the audio?”

“My readings have reported results that are too regular, in a way that suggested they are artificial or otherwise simulated. And as for the audio, it is the standard way for ship brains to communicate. If an Old Dynasty facility is here, it might be best to act as if we are a standard flyer doing a routine check.”

“If its defenses are active, won’t it detect that you’re a Familiar too?” Hadrian asked.

“I can camouflage myself to appear as a standard flyer,” Luminosity said, “though this will only work from a distance. It won’t fool a hyper-sophisticated sensor or the naked eye. However, as this space fortress is likely abandoned, I am hoping that they will have neither.”

Hadrian peered at the chart that popped up. “What if they attack us anyways?”

“I am armed with beamers, shield rays, and missiles,” Luminosity said. “There are also a few smart bots, though I believe those are older models, and their payload relatively weaker, as well as a Disabler gun to capture prizes.”

That was a formidable array of weaponry. Hadrian relaxed marginally. The planet loomed before them now, no longer the tiny spot it had been.

Hadrian forced himself to breath. There was likely no danger that Luminosity could not handle. The greater risk was that they would find nothing, and all this would be a waste of valuable resources when they should be readying defenses against a possible Protectorate attack. 

They moved steadily, falling into the planet’s orbit now –

And was hit by a blast that shook the ship. Hadrian felt his bones convulse by the energy of the impact as Luminosity struggled to stay aloft.

“Hostile forces detected,” she said, her panel enlarging to show a segment of space where Hadrian saw nothing but the blue methane atmosphere of the planet. “They are preparing to launch a second missile.”

“Ready shield rays,” Antony said, his voice calm. Hadrian could feel the tension running in Antony’s body underneath. “Prepare to counterattack.”

The screen flickered, a filter over the image. Hadrian gasped. Two drones approached them at breakneck speed, as a glint shone behind them.

“The fortress is behind the drones,” Hadrian said. He was not sure how he knew, but he did. “That light there looks to be the entrance.”

“We need to get past these two drones,” Antony said. Hadrian saw the veins popping from his arm. “Luminosity, can you take those two out?”

“Firing.”

There was a burst of light as the missile arced out and met its target. Even as it did so, the other drone released a beam that aimed straight at the Familiar, the radioactive nature of the weapon giving it visible color. 

They lurched. Luminosity swung out to avoid the ray, and Hadrian was thrown against Antony as they veered, accelerating towards where Hadrian had said the fortress entrance was.

Luminosity launched a smart bot as they did so. It had a rudimentary AI that guided its flight, programmed to hit and explode on impact with the target.   
Hadrian watched on the display as the smart-bot released chaff to confuse the fortress’s remaining drone. It flew underneath the haze it discharged, before meeting the enemy in a brilliant detonation that left Hadrian gasping with gratitude. 

It was his first space battle. Hadrian studied the rudimentary facts of warfare in space, but as with everything, the experience held little similarity to what was written in the books. He could tell Antony was shook too, though judging from the color in his normally pale cheeks, it was more from excitement than nervousness. 

“That was educational,” he breathed out. Hadrian could sense the pulsing adrenaline, the swirl of exhilaration and satisfaction that turned heated as Antony looked at Hadrian. Hadrian caught a flash of Antony’s emotions – the surprise at the ease of the victory, the satisfaction at his performance, the fierce protectiveness that was aroused when Hadrian was thrown against the side.

Hadrian could understand now how some could get addicted to the battle and the adrenaline now. These weren’t his emotions, but he experienced them as though they were. His head spun.

“Enemies eliminated,” Luminosity said. “I see the space fortress now. I will attempt to make a landing now that the enemy is destroyed.”

Even as she spoke, the display changed, to show a space station in the form of a pagoda resting on a large spherical platform as its base. Even in the digital image, it was imposing, its eaves sharp and foreboding, the finial on the “top” of the tower in the likeness of a guardian lion. 

Hadrian’s heart raced. That was it! That was the Old Dynasty space fortress. 

A thrill of elation – and unexpectedly, déjà vu – throbbed; Hadrian was unsure of who they belonged to.

The sight was eerie beautiful, the contrast made starker by the desolation. The pagoda stood out in dark red against the deep blue of the planet it orbited, lifeless, without the usual tenders and shuttles that surrounded a space settlement. It was roughly the size of a small moon, dwarfing their ship as they moved closer. 

Hadrian saw the opening at the spherical base that led to a hangar.

“I see it,” the ship said. “It looks to be large enough to landing. Approaching.”

“Are there any other defenses active?” Antony asked. 

Hadrian considered his handheld. “I think if we go in fast, we can avoid triggering any further defenses,” he said. “Those drones might not be the only defenses, but they probably are the fastest. I think Luminosity can use speed to our advantage here.”

“Can you do it?” Antony stared at the figures on the screen. “We might not have enough fuel to go that fast at sub-light. We only filled up for a short journey.”

“Of course,” Luminosity said. There was the briefest of hesitation. “I can use the energy that power the weapons systems, the alternative being we use the fuel I earmarked for the return home. However, this would mean that we would be unable to return fire should something else attacks.”

“What do you think, Hadrian?” Antony asked. “What’s your opinion?”

“We can use the speed advantage and the maneuverability of the ship to dodge any potential attack,” Hadrian said, “rather than taking the riskier option of fighting Old Dynasty weapons that probably still retain their potency despite their age.”

“Alright.” Antony exhaled. “Luminosity, try to see what you can to land. Are the hangar doors opened?”

“They are.”

Hadrian felt his ears pop, his body weighing down as Luminosity increased her speed. He clenched his jaws. Even with the bio-enhancements meant to accommodate his body to prolonged time in space, Hadrian still suffered from the physical effect of the g-forces created by this pace.

There was a harsh sound and incessant beeping sounded.

“We are hit,” the ship announced. “We tripped over a mine that was concealed around the entrance. Entering emergency landing procedure.”

Antony’s brow furrowed. Hadrian lurched and grabbed him tighter. He shifted automatically, trying to make up for the change in balance.

The ship veered as they dropped, Hadrian grabbing onto Antony’s arm, fingernails scabbing into his skin, trying to find purchase as the ship desperately tried to regain control. 

She managed to do so – but it was too late. Hadrian saw the floor of the hanger, closing in much too quickly. There was a horrifying stillness: the cockpit opened and ejected them out as the ship trembled and stopped, the wings out wide to increase drag.

Then they were in the air, and it seemed to make the moment worse, time stretching out. Hadrian cried out as Antony grabbed him, somehow managing to maneuver in the air so that he was on the bottom to break the fall. Hadrian held on to Louis as tight as possible, praying as they hit hard, and agony clawing its way –

They stopped. For a horrifying moment Hadrian could not feel his arms or legs. His face was damp, and his entire body hurt, aching and stinging. There was a long gash on the side of his arm, and his robes were torn. The dim light flickered on, making the red all the more vivid. He wheezed, trying to grab gasps of air, as he flipped over onto my back. 

He stood, slowly, painfully. He saw Antony lying there, barely a hairbreadth away. Is he dead? Hadrian knelt, his knees screaming in refusal as they bent, and prodded him gently. 

Antony groaned. It was a loud, long, and stretched-out moan of pain, yet Hadrian had never heard anything more beautiful. He hugged Antony, hard, with all his strength, feeling Antony’s body solid against his own, relishing the beat of Antony’s heart against his–

“Ow, you’re holding me too tight,” Antony said, trying awkwardly to pat on Hadrian’s back. He winced. “I think something’s wrong; I can’t move my leg.”

Hadrian moved back immediately, missing body contact, and looked: no limbs were missing, but one leg had purpled bruises all over and was already swelling. Antony’s leg was broken. 

“Don’t move,” Hadrian said, as he eased myself slowly to sit next to Antony. “I think your leg is broken. Can you feel anything?”

Antony laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be moving anywhere anytime soon. And yes, I can feel it. It hurts like Hell. Do you mind helping me sit up?”

Hadrian helped him up, Antony groaning and spitting curses. Antony’s injuries appeared less serious when he sat up: though his robes were torn and his face was a mess of sweat and cuts, Antony did not appear hurt anywhere else. He had tried to shield Hadrian from the worst of the impact; the bruises was evidence of that. 

“Is anywhere else hurting?” Hadrian asked with a stab of guilt as he took the sight in. 

His guilt must have been plain on his face, because Antony said: “Relax, it looks worse than it feels.”

Hadrian made a face. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could have severed a nerve or a tendon.” 

To be on the safe side, Hadrian patted him down, gently, examining the areas exposed through the torn fabric with butterfly touches. Nothing else seemed broken.

“Satisfied?” Antony seemed to be in good spirits considering his state. Maybe it was the shock. Hadrian tore a strip off of his robes and looked for something to tie it to. There was a metal pipe nearby. 

He surveyed his handiwork. It should hold for the moment, though it would be best if Antony remained still for the time being. 

“Are you alright?” Luminosity exited out from the ship’s hull in her forma body, her nine tails swishing anxiously. “Sorry I had to eject you, but I wasn’t sure if I was about to crash and didn’t want to take the risk.”

The risk. Hadrian hung his head.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pressed for us to fly so quickly. It was reckless; I should’ve expected that there would be other traps and defenses that protect the station.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Luminosity said, her voice echoing in the deserted hangar. “I should have sensed that mine.” She was dejected, her wings drooping, as she looked at them. 

“It’s not your fault,” Antony said. “Neither of you.” He shifted and released a groan of pain. 

“That sounds bad,” Hadrian said worriedly. 

“My bio-enhancements are already working on the recovery process,” Antony said. “But it might take an hour or so. How’s the ship?”

Luminosity looked back at the ship. It was disconcerting for Hadrian to realize of both of the fox and the starfighter were her bodies. 

“The hull sustained minor damage, but the armor is completely pierced,” she said. “If there’s another mine, then the ship won’t be able to survive. However, the hull material has already begun self-repairing. It’ll likely take as long as Antony to recover.”

“You two are in charge for now,” Antony said, his eyes closed. His breathing eased, a sign that Hadrian recognized as Antony entering the healing meditation.

“You should stay and guard him,” Hadrian told Luminosity. “I’m going to go do a bit of recon.” 

Despite the shock and turbulence of how they landed, Hadrian was irresistibly drawn to the once-in-a-lifetime prospect to explore for himself a remnant of their ancestors. All around, Hadrian saw the signs of some terrible battle from eons ago: broken pipes and deep depressions, almost craters, in the ground. There were bits and pieces of shattered metal, some with the same look as Luminosity’s hull, which now glowed blue as tiny nanobots worked to mend the damage. 

It was all Hadrian could see in the limited range provided by the ship’s lights. He clutched his pistol. Suddenly, he regretted not bringing the biggest, meanest rifle in the Cheung’s armory.

The thought at being the one to unearth the secrets of this place sat uneasily with the creeping dread brought on by the darkness. Hadrian shuddered; he had no idea what else awaited them. He had thought the site would perhaps have one or two generators that was barely functioning, perhaps one of the maintenance bots that never seemed to malfunction given their simplest of programming. Never did Hadrian imagine that there would be two active sentry drones ready for them. 

If Luminosity had been less alert….

He shook the thought from his head. What happened was educational, but only if he learned from it and moved on, not dwell and overthink the counterfactuals. He looked at Luminosity. 

“Do you have any information beyond the location?” Luminosity asked Hadrian, appearing to come to the same conclusion. “Any events that happened here, any information on the armaments stored here or any facilities?”

Hadrian consulted his handheld. “It’s suggested in the Professor’s research that this was a toll station and housed the Imperial soldiers for the garrison that was here. There’s no surviving documentations on anything else, though I would expect the usual: living quarters, armory, anti-ship weaponry, the bridge. There also seems to be more hangars than this one.” 

Talking about the space fortress aloud helped take Hadrian’s mind off the guilt that hit him every time he looked at Antony. He should have studied the schematics better, insisted that they move slower. 

“It’s not your fault,” Luminosity said softly. She sat on her haunches near the ship. “It was my fault as much as it was an accident. I have incorporated this experience into my data.”

Hadrian didn’t speak. He looked around the cavernous hall of the hangar. 

“I’ll go look for supplies,” he said finally. He got up before the fox could say anything further.

Hadrian could tell the fortress had been bustling before, busy with the soldiers and technicians and administrators that managed this system before the Old Dynasty’s fall. 

And now it was deserted. 

Hadrian didn’t think he would have enjoyed living here even if it were still functional. It might be spacious for a space station – the impractical shape of the superstructure demonstrated that the Old Dynasty engineers had graduated beyond practical concerns – but Hadrian still preferred the creature comforts of civilian life.

He had gone out into one of the hallways that led into the hangar, shining a small torchlight that he found in the ship’s hold, the other hand gripping his pistol. 

He was not sure what he was looking for, and he knew that the safer course of action would have been to stay with the rest of the group. 

But something called to him. An instinct, perhaps, or simple curiosity, but he found that remaining while Antony and Luminosity were recovering only made him more anxious with the waiting. Hadrian would not wander far anyways; he knew better than that.

He marked each feature of the hall carefully in his mind, committing it to memory. There were more turns than he expected, and he made a note of it on his handheld, as a basic map. Wires hung from the ceiling, exposed by what looked like projectile blasts to Hadrian, and there were dark spots that could have been scorch marks or stains. He didn’t look at those too closely. 

If these walls could talk, what would they say, Hadrian wondered. Something horrible? Something momentous? Though this system held economic importance, it had never been particularly significant militarily or politically in the past. It was more due to the Cheungs settling on Fragrant Orbital than the location or resources for the newfound prominence.

Yet there was something here. Hadrian could feel it, at the edge of his senses, a drumbeat of recognition and precognition stronger than the typical unease from being in such a setting.

Why had the Cheung decided to colonize the orbital and settle in such a sedentary fashion rather than roaming the galaxy in Clanships like the rest of the psions? Hadrian had an inkling that the answer to that question and this space fortress were linked.

Intuition and precognition …. A psion’s mind was barely understood by modern science, though both geneticists and neurologists conducted countless studies to map out those abilities. What was understood, however, was that in addition to experiencing emotion and memories of others, a psion could potentially sample possible timelines of events yet to come. 

It happened rarely, and was notoriously inaccurate, though methods existed to hone the readings. There was cartomancy, using the Ta’lo Tarot cards, and also the Chien, shaking a cup of dried ti’en stalks to render a reading.

Hadrian preferred the cartomancy. He had brought a pack of the Tarot to Fragrant Orbital. These tools were just tools, used to read patterns that were locked in the reader’s own psyche. 

Perhaps he should have brought the Tarot here, to fathom why this place that he had never visited triggered such a reaction. 

But maybe he was just been fanciful; Hadrian tried to guess how Antony would think if he knew Hadrian was so unsettled. He wished Antony was here with him.

He shook his head again, clearing the thought. He could be driven mad here by his nerves in a place like this. The darkness, the gloom of loneliness, they weighed heavily on Hadrian. It might be just that.

He had his way back to the hangar, feeling rather let down that he had found nothing of note. 

“What did you find?” Antony asked when Hadrian returned. “Any ghosts or ghouls?”

Hadrian scowled. Antony was mostly recovered. He still remained seated in the lotus position, but his eyes were opened, bright and alert, his hand stroking Luminosity’s fur. 

“You mock, but there’s something creepy this place,” Hadrian said. He relaxed slightly, however, at Antony’s cheerful attitude. “You try wandering around it by yourself.”

“Not without a lazeblaster,” snorted Antony. “You’re much braver than me, walking around with that tiny pistol. I take it since you’re still in one piece that nothing untoward happened?”

Beneath the teasing tone, Hadrian caught a flash of Antony’s relief that Hadrian was alright, searching the fortress by himself, with that almost useless thing he called a pistol. 

Warmth suffused his chest. Antony cared. He cared.

Hadrian had to look away so Antony would not see how affected he was. He had a feeling Antony knew anyways.

“The fortress is enormous,” Luminosity said. She looked up at them. “I tapped into the fortress’s mainframe and found the blueprints.”

“Oh!” Hadrian was annoyed that he had not thought of that. “That would have saved trouble. What else did you find?”

“A lot of the data is degraded,” the fox said. “And after the Fall, a lot of our programming has diverged. I can’t understand the rest even if the information is complete.”

“The fortress is big,” Antony added, “with nine levels, and roughly the size of Fragrant Orbital’s central platform. A rough estimation has it that this fortress could house at least a few million. Soldiers, support staff, military researchers.”

“I wonder what it’s used for,” Hadrian said, and he told him about the premonition that had occurred while he was exploring. 

Hadrian was relieved that Antony did not burst out laughing. 

“It’s possible,” Antony said. “So much time has passed since we moved to this system that our ancestor’s motive remains murky, even to his descendants. And there are no records of it in the archives, but it would explain a lot if they came to look for the fortress.”

“But what could be so special about it?” Hadrian asked. “And why do I feel like I know this place?”

“You could be reacting to the Old Dynasty tech latent in this place,” Luminosity piped. “So much of their engineering centered around psionic abilities that I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

That was possible. Hadrian looked at Antony. Antony shrugged.

“I don’t really feel anything,” he said. “But my bio-enhancement system automatically releases mild anesthesia to counter the pain. It could be interfering with my senses.”

Hadrian scratched his head. He was not sure what to make of – well, anything. He just knew he wanted to penetrate deeper into the structure, despite the possible risk. He could sense that too, at the edge of his consciousness, a quiet echo that warned him to be careful.

Antony sensed Hadrian’s restlessness. 

“I’m able to walk now,” he said, “though I still need to move slowly. If you give me a couple more minutes to rest, then I think we should be able to explore further. Do you want to trade that thing you call a pistol for something else?”

“I have one extra pulse rifle and a couple of special-issue field knives that can be for combat or survival usage,” Luminosity said. “You’re welcome to take one for your own use.” 

“I have horrible aim,” Hadrian said sourly. “And I don’t know anything about knife combat.”

“I can teach you,” Antony offered. “It’s all in the wrist anyways. Knife combat, that is. I’m surprised you don’t, though. I thought survival training was a mandatory part of every psion’s education.” 

“I … ah … skipped those.”

“How? I can’t imagine your brother or father would let you.”

“I’ve gotten really good at pretending to be sick….” Hadrian looked at Antony sheepishly. “I irritated my tutors so much that they eventually gave up and just allowed me to do as I wish.”

“Well, I’m not so easily fooled as them,” Antony frowned. “I’m a much tougher taskmaster than them. If I’m going to be teaching you, I expect full dedication and total concentration.”

“You might not have time for that,” Luminosity said.

“Why?”

“Because there are enemies coming,” she pointed out. 

There was a body, well-proportioned and muscular, and on its death mask of a face an inhuman smile that chilled the blood. It emerged, out of the dark, the eyes glowing blacker than the dim around it.

And then came another. And another. 

There were at least a hundred creeping towards them. They lumbered, their gait unsteady, their footfalls loud on the plastic. 

Hadrian saw them surrounding the group in a tight ring. He took a step back, bumping against Antony as Antony stood.

“What are they?” Antony asked, reaching for the blaster in the cockpit.

“A first scan indicates that these are forma bodies, though I can tell they are definitely not Familiars,” said Luminosity. She waved her tails. “It’s obvious from the way they appeared and their continuing approach that whatever these are, their intention is hostile.”

“Thank you, I almost missed that,” Antony said, loading his blaster with a click. He looked at Hadrian. “Still insisting on that pistol of yours?”

Hadrian made a snap call. He tossed his pistol aside and took the spare rifle, cocked it, testing the weight in his hand. It was much heavier than any other weapons he had used before. “You’re not going to try and tell me to stay behind you again, are you?” 

Antony laughed, a loud and incongruous sound amidst the tension. It broke the silence – the bodies swarmed at the group, a single, massed movement of limbs. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Antony said as he fired at one. The jet shot through the body like hot knife through butter; the arm fell, rolling away in the dust. “Just follow my lead.”

Hadrian breathed in and fired. The discharge almost dislocated his arm. He watched the pulse hit the body. It shuddered, before coming to a dead stop. It was quickly tossed aside by the others as they pressed forward, heedless of any risk to themselves.

Hadrian told himself to concentrate. He was thankful that these were not human; he sensed nothing but static blankness from them. It sharpened his focus, in the absence of the distracting emotions and memories that flooded the mind whenever one faced imminent death or injury. 

Luminosity kicked the one that was closest to it. It was the recently deceased sailor. Her hind leg’s heel caught him in the chest. He was sturdier than the one Hadrian had just destroyed, and merely stumbled back. She tried again, this time with enough force to break his ribs. It worked -- the body fell, unable to rise, hands still scrabbling at the floor to push himself up.

Antony made quick work of two others. Their body parts strewn the ground, a smell like petrol rising as Antony sidestepped over to Hadrian’s side.

“How’s it going?” he asked. He was in good spirits. His face had a healthy flush, and his breathing was elevated and quickened. 

“How’s this compared to your morning exercises?” Hadrian asked, as another blast cut out in a flash that disarmed a body– literally. Its arm fell off and it looked at where its hand was as if in confusion.

“Much less challenging,” Antony grinned at Hadrian. After the initial horror at the bodies and the disorientation at the overpowering the smell and the impression that these could almost been mistaken for real humans, it was … strangely easy. Whether due to a design flaw or because it had been so long since they had last seen action, these bodies were slow, and Hadrian, even with his poor aim in the dark, was able to pick them off with no trouble.

But their numbers provided them with an advantage. 

“There are too many,” Hadrian yelled to Antony. Antony’s body count was higher than Hadrian’s, born out of his trained combat reflexes. “At this rate, we can kill a hundred and tire ourselves out before they get us!” 

“We just have to hang in there,” he shouted back. “How many are there?””

“I estimate roughly a hundred,” Luminosity said. The tips of her tails had sharpened into serrated edges, cutting through the bodies with a slash of white. “Hadrian’s right. At this rate, you will tire out yourselves. This body of mine doesn’t tire, but I suspect a small fox is no match for these once you two are gone.”

An idea struck Hadrian. “What about the ship? The ship’s guns is basically artillery. Is it possible for us to use the beamers to destroy these bodies in one blow?”  
“It is,” Luminosity said, leaping with feline grace out of the grasp of a particularly tenacious body. She landed on his hand, her claws extending with a wicked gleam before the body’s entire head cracked, fissures running through the emotionless face as the body stilled. “But the ship is repairing itself right now; if we use any of the armaments, the power used for repairs will be diverted and the process will be delayed.”

“Do it!” Antony shouted as he grappled with tenacious body that had been more adroit than the others, his blaster tossed to the side. He struck it in the chest with his palm. Its entire ribs collapsed, and it fell back, as Antony met it with a roundhouse kick that left the body on the floor. 

The nine-tailed fox jumped back, her figure disappearing into the open cockpit of the ship. The glow disappeared, replaced by the headlights switching on. 

Seeing the bodies clearly was awful. They were humanoid, barely distinguishable from ordinary people except for their still, unmoving faces and blank eyes. They wore the same uniform: yellow tunic with dark trouser that appeared to be more workmen’s clothing than military gear. It hit Hadrian with an awful realization that the reason why these were not equipped with body or any other kind of protection was because they were expendable. 

These bodies had no consciousness, no soul.

Even as he understood that, his hand faltered on the rifle. The tiniest pause was just enough for one of the bodies to lunge at him, its hands reaching to close around his throat.

Antony moved faster than he had ever seen. He became a blur. Hadrian felt rather than saw Antony pushed the body off of him, so forceful it created a small gust of wind that brushed Hadrian’s cheek.

The forma body struck back, its hands grabbing at Antony’s leg even as he dropped. Hadrian heard the sickening crunch of the just-healed limb break again, before he managed to remember he still held a gun in his hand. Hadrian fired.

The body twitched, its hand still a vise around Antony’s leg.

“Take cover!”

Luminosity’s voice boomed, providing barely enough time for a warning before she fired.

Hadrian ducked, the scorching heat from the beamer – a cannon firing high-energy particle beams – erased the massed bodies in an instant. 

There was nothing left. Nothing except for a blackened char on the platisteel floor.

Hadrian looked around frantically. Antony – where was he? Everything happened so quick – if he had gotten caught in the blast –

He felt the reassuring touch of Antony’s mind before Hadrian saw him, crouched against the floor, using the forma body to shield him from the flare of the cannon. 

Hadrian collapsed onto the floor. Tension and that terrible fear of seeing Antony’s corpse drained away, leaving him a boneless mess that barely had the strength to hold himself upright. It was only by the dint of his willpower that he managed to not completely crumple. 

“I think my leg’s broken again,” Antony said, his tone even. Hadrian felt the tenor of strain beneath Antony’s composure, and he had to admire how Antony managed to maintain his control despite the pain. 

Hadrian felt the pain too. Even secondhand, it made Hadrian want to cry out. He forced it away, rebuilding his mental barriers with laborious effort. It wasn’t to protect his privacy now, it was to prevent himself from being distracted. He needed to keep his own mind so he could think.

Hadrian made his way over slowly. “Does this hurt?” he asked, running his hands over Antony’s shin, almost in a caress. He was careful to avoid the makeshift splint. “If it hurts too much, let me know. I’m not much of a medic but I can try to ease the pain by making a new splint or something.”

Antony grunted as Hadrian’s hand touched a particular spot. “No, it’s fine,” he gasped. “The process is already beginning.” 

Hadrian moved to clear away the debris from the battle.

“What’s troubling you?” Antony asked. He motioned for Hadrian to move closer. Hadrian was tired; it washed him under a sea of aching muscles and tender joints. 

“I’m sorry for being a pain in your ass,” Hadrian said, settling down. “I feel like all this is my fault. I should’ve listened and stayed behind.”

“No,” Antony said. “I’m glad you came.”

“Why?” Hadrian asked bitterly. “I caused nothing but trouble for you.” He kicked angrily at the floor.

“You didn’t,” Antony said. “I promise you, you haven’t. And I don’t blame you one bit.” He hesitated. Then he repeated: “I’m glad you came.”

Hadrian stared at the floor until the cracks became patterns, his eyelids heavy, as his body loosened. He leant his head against Antony’s shoulder. It fitted comfortably. It was warm – Antony was warm. Hadrian could smell Antony’s scent still, under the dirt and the sweat. Hadrian probably was the same, if not worse. 

One hand running gently through Hadrian’s hair, Antony rested his head against Hadrian’s as he began to whistle. It was a plaintive tune, haunting yet somehow soothing. Hadrian listened to it, drifting along the melody, easing knots Hadrian had not even realized was there. The notes were soft, blurring into one another as Hadrian let it guide him, Antony’s hand in my hair anchoring Hadrian as Hadrian’s awareness dissolved into simple sensations…. 

~~ 

Hadrian woke gradually, like a film laid over his senses was being peeled back centimeters at a time. 

Antony stirred, his head having fallen to Hadrian’s shoulder when Hadrian slept. Antony’s arms were wrapped around him. It felt … right … somehow where they were. Hadrian remained still in this intense quiet, for what felt like hours, as time slipped away.

Hadrian longed to stay like this forever, but his internal clock told him it had been over an hour. He saw the dimmed headlights from Luminosity, who had remained in her ship form to guard them with the starfighter’s weapons in case of another attack. 

Antony’s arms were tight, though, and Hadrian could not slip from underneath. Hadrian did not want to wake him; Antony was so at peace in his sleep, and his arms felt right around Hadrian. 

But —

Hadrian cleared his throat quietly and tapped Antony on the shoulder. Antony stirred, then blinked as he woke. 

“Mm what is it?” Antony asked. His arms were still around Hadrian. Antony was still half asleep. 

“Almost midnight,” Hadrian said, wiggled. “You have to let me go.”

“Don’t ... want to ... feels ... nice....” Antony was starting to fall back asleep.

This time Hadrian moved his body more vigorously. Antony started, jerked awake by Hadrian’s actions. Quick as a flash, he took his arms off Hadrian, blushing.

“What — what happening?” Antony’s voice was still rough from sleep. 

“I need to check on your leg,” Hadrian said. He knelt down besides Antony’s leg and removed the splint. 

“I’ll have to take off your trousers too,” Hadrian said. 

Antony nodded. Hadrian thought he saw something flash across Antony’s face, but it was just a trick of the light. Antony’s leg was all muscle and hard bone. Hadrian ran his fingers lightly across, testing. Antony had managed to reduce much of the swelling and reset the bone; it only needed a bit more to be fully healed. 

Hadrian reached out, feeling Antony’s mind as he worked. Their breaths synchronized.

Antony stood, stretched out his leg. “I feel a lot better,” he said. “Thanks.”

Hadrian nodded, suddenly shy. “It’s what anyone would have done.” 

There was a frisson of emotion between them. Hadrian stood; they almost bumped noses.

“Sorry,” Hadrian giggled incongruously. He was still feeling the headrush from the aftereffects of their minds melding. 

Antony’s eyes fixed on Hadrian. They were bright — with happiness, yes, and with much more. They looked at Hadrian and Hadrian’s heart skipped a beat. He closed the distance and their lips were about to touch —

There was a clatter as a piece of metal fell from the ceiling. Hadrian pulled away, reluctantly brought back to reality.

“You two are finally awake,” Luminosity said from the ship’s speakers. She gave no indication she had paid any attention to Hadrian and Antony’s almost kiss. 

“Yes ….” Antony blinked away the dazed sleepiness. “I take it there’s been no further incidents?”

“None,” the ship said. “But I did sense an anomaly coming from the bridge of the fortress. A strange signal, that began right after all the bodies that attacked us were destroyed.”

“What kind of signal? Radio? Electromagnetic?”

“No, none of those.” The ship sounded confused. “Psychic.”

“What? How?”

“It’s similar to the transmissions I receive from another Familiar,” Luminosity said, “but I can’t understand it. There’s something … odd about it.”

Now that she mentioned it, Hadrian sensed that too. It reminded him of fingers tapping softly on his shoulder, beckoning him. 

There was no danger in it. Hadrian was not sure how he knew that, but he did. It was a certitude which could not be shaken, no matter how hard his logic tried to convince him.

“We need to go find the source,” he said with a stamp of conviction in his voice. “It’ll be the key to the mystery of this place.”

Antony looked dubious. “Is it? What if it’s a trap?”

Hadrian shook his head. “I don’t sense any hostile intentions from it.”

“No hostile intentions? What was that –” Antony gestured at the burnt marks on the plastisteel floor “—a welcoming party?”

Hadrian wasn’t sure how to explain it to Antony. “We startled the fortress,” Hadrian argued. “That was why it sent those things – what were those things anyways? But I think it understands now that we’re not here with any ill intentions.”

“I have to agree with Antony,” Luminosity said. “My estimation is that it will be dangerous to go find the signal. Even if you don’t think the fortress is hostile, the intelligence behind it has a much different understanding of ‘friendly’ than the human definition. It might release more of those androids anyways.”

“Is that what they are?” Hadrian said curiously. “Androids?”

“It would appear so,” the ship said. “They don’t seem to function, and seemed to be simply following their programming. Very unadvanced.”

“I wonder how they could be shut down,” Hadrian said thoughtfully. “If, for example, they received orders via an external signal, we could potentially disrupt it so they’d be paralyzed.”

Antony shook his head. “There’s no point in this conjecture. It’s much too dangerous for us to go to the bridge right now without more information.” 

“Well, we need to go anyways,” Hadrian said. “Otherwise, what is the point of coming here if we just sat in the hangar and not found anything? We don’t have time to go back to the Orbital and organize a larger expedition. Nor are there any more people to spare.”

Antony growled. “You’re right but I can’t help feeling uneasy about this. And we can’t bring the ship with us since we have to walk. That limits the amount of firepower we can bring.”

“We’re investigating the place, not trying to blow it up,” Hadrian said tartly. “And if we were careful, we won’t meet with those androids again.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t,” Hadrian said. “But we’re just going to risk it, don’t we?”

“I suppose so,” Antony said reluctantly. He looked at Hadrian. “At least you know the basics of aiming a rifle.”

Hadrian refrained from making a smartass response. “Can you send the schematics of the fortress to my handheld?” he asked Luminosity. “And any other information you found in the system.”

There was a beep from his pocket as his handheld acknowledged the reception. Hadrian’s pulse jumped. He wondered what he would find, why he had felt the psychic signal that Luminosity had described, and why he felt nothing but curiosity and a need to see the source. Both Antony and Luminosity did not share his thoughts on the subject. 

“Well,” Antony still looked doubtful, but Hadrian could sense that spirit of adventure beginning to rear its head in Antony’s mind. “I guess we should get going.”

They left Luminosity watching the ship, Hadrian and Antony treading along the path that Hadrian had just set on not too long ago. 

It appeared different now, now that Hadrian had Antony walking next to him. It took a weight off him, the reassuring presence close enough to touch. 

Hadrian squashed the urge to grab Antony’s hand. It was ridiculous, and he told himself so. In the middle of a deserted space fortress, with possible attack at any moment, and all he could think about was this infatuation. The kiss that would have happened.

Had he not somehow pulled back.

Hadrian wanted to hit himself for doing that.

“We’re at the lowest level of the fortress,” Antony said, peering over Hadrian’s shoulder to read the handheld. Hadrian had not even been looking at it. “There looks to be a lift up ahead that would take us to straight to the bridge.”

“Where is it? The bridge, I mean.”

“The top of the fortress.” Antony squinted at the handheld. “I have to say, this place is creepy. You were walking around here all by yourself?”  
Hadrian nodded.

“Well,” Antony sounded impressed. “I sure as hell couldn’t imagine doing that without taking half of an armory with me, let alone with that tiny pistol of yours.”

“It’s not that bad,” Hadrian said modestly. 

There was a small rustle and they both tensed. Hadrian imagined beasts with glowing eyes and teeth sharper than steel, slobbering as they paced towards me…. 

Another sound and scurrying in front of me. Hadrian relaxed slightly. It must be a pipe or the internal workings of the structure, judging by the noise. 

Wandering in the dark, with only a tiny torchlight for illumination had its own soporific effect. Hadrian’s aching muscles loosened after being confined for so long, and he had the strange impression that he was in a dream, a listless one with no destination or end of the journey.

Hadrian shook his head again, trying to wake himself up. If they did not find anything soon, he would probably be driven mad here. The darkness, the gloom of loneliness, they weighed heavily on his senses. Antony’s footsteps next to him only alleviated, not banish the strain. He pushed his ears for every small scuffle. Twice, he almost tripped when his foot caught on the cracked ground. Every step in the dark led to another; it quickly became an endless chain. It felt like he was stuck in an endless loop until Hadrian finally saw a crack in the black.

They had reached the lift at the end of the hall. As they entered, it seemed to hiss in response, before beeping as Antony pressed the button. 

“I was starting to wonder whether we would be trapped in that hallway forever,” Hadrian said. The familiar hum of the elevator comforted him. They all sounded the same, no matter the time or location.

“I was too,” Antony confessed. “It was … stressful.”

“I didn’t know you worried about these kinds of things,” Hadrian teased, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“I do worry,” Antony said, his eyes looking straight into Hadrian’s. “I worry about a lot of things.”

Hadrian was too tongue-tied by Antony’s intensity to ask Antony what he worried about. He wanted to lunge in and finish the kiss, the setting be damned. His fingers curled as he imagined them running through Antony’s hair.

Antony gave a little cough. “Uh, Hadrian? You’re staring at me.”

Oh. Hadrian blushed. “Sorry.” Then he added: “It’s because your hair is sticking up.” 

“We didn’t get on when we first met, did we?” Antony asked, bemused. “Your hair was a mess, though. I was just pointing out the truth.” 

Hadrian glowered at him. “I don’t know how I can stand you sometimes. You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you still put up with me.” Before Hadrian could retort, Antony pulled him in, his lips dried and crack as they met Hadrian’s.

Hadrian let out a muffled little sound at the surprise contact. Antony’s thumb brushed the underside of his chin as he deepened the kiss, Hadrian taking the opportunity to slip his hand and run across Antony’s hair the way he had wanted to. 

Antony was a good kisser, gentle and firm all at once, taking control of the rhythm. Hadrian found that he didn’t mind. It was his first time kissing someone, male or female, that was more than a peck on the check. 

He had been missing out, Hadrian thought. Or perhaps Antony was just good. Hadrian could not imagine doing this with anyone else – Antony’s hands, his smell, the way his lips tasted slightly chapped against Hadrian’s dominated Hadrian’s senses.

There was a chime that warned them of the elevator’s stop. The doors slid open, leading into a vast hall lit with a soft blue. It was the reflection from the planet the fortress orbited, Hadrian realized. 

The bridge was all glass and chrome, with a window to the stars and the planet below it. Banks of consoles lined one side of the room, the other side a meeting space of some kind, with ornately crafted chairs and a table showing the aged patina of the wood it had been carved from. It was an odd addition to the rest of a space that was sleek and sharp and silver. 

Hadrian tried to focus. But he could not get the taste of Antony’s lips out of his mind. It seared its impression into him; Hadrian still could feel the press of the kiss if he closed his eyes. 

Antony let out a soft chuckle. “We should focus.”

Hadrian needed to barricade his mind better. It was a sieve, leaking emotions and memories. Even though he did not think he needed to conceal anything from Antony, it was poor discipline, not to mention distracting. 

“What do we do now?” Hadrian asked, trying to focus on the task at hand. He reminded himself danger could still be lurking — in the shadowed corners, or just around the hall. 

“You tell me,” Antony said. “Can you see if you can connect your handheld to the bridge’s computer?”

Hadrian looked at it. Data loaded on the screen, the characters flashing as his handheld attempted to enter the fortress’s mainframe. 

“This fortress is part toll-station and part administrative center for the garrison in the system,” Hadrian said, slowly moving through the information. He was grateful the psions used the traditional form of writing rather than the new, simplified system that the Protectorate forced upon the rest of its subjects. The psions had inherited this tradition, like much else, from the Old Dynasty. “There’s also a small listening and research facility attached. There’s also another hangar next to the bridge, for the commander’s personal use.”

“Anything else?”

“No.” Hadrian glanced disappointedly at Antony. “The rest is readable but it doesn’t make sense. It looks like it could be some kind of encryption that’s protecting the rest of the information.”

“You can’t break it?”

“No. With an encryption this sophisticated, I would need much more specialized tools to help.”

Antony considered the bridge, looking out unseeingly at the world outside, immune to the blue of the planet and the mysterious dark of space that surrounded it. It was just as dark inside, the centuries old fortress empty, a lightless shell that kept its secrets. 

“Download as much information as you can to your handheld,” he said. “And the coordinates on the starmaps. I think we should get an excavation team to visit if possible.”

Hadrian did as Antony asked, the rows of screens staying resolutely blank. Hadrian wondered what it would take for him to learn their secrets, how long it would take. 

If you want to learn more, come to me. 

Hadrian almost jumped, dropping his handheld. 

Antony frowned. He was in the midst of examining the table. “What’s wrong?

“Nothing.” Hadrian must have imagined it. Even if there were a psychic signal like Luminosity said, it would have only been a feeling or something equally intangible. Not a coherent thought, the type he had been sending to Antony of late. 

But he was so certain.... 

Come to me.

There it was again! Stronger. This time, Hadrian thought it had an insistent quality to it, like it had waited for centuries and could control itself no longer.

It beckoned, with an eagerness and welcome that was magnetic in its pull.

Hadrian moved, unthinkingly. A door that he had not noticed earlier slide open. Antony turned at the unexpected sound, his face growing alarmed as he saw Hadrian walk towards it. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered, grabbing Hadrian’s arm. “Where did that door come from?”

“There’s something on the other side for me,” Hadrian said. It beat in his head, a call that reverberated. “Can’t you feel it?”

Antony gave Hadrian a look of alarm. “No. And if there is, how do you know it isn’t a trap?”

“I just do.” Hadrian closed his eyes. “It knows me. It’s friendly. I can guarantee you that.”

Even as he said it, Hadrian wished he hadn’t. He had no way of knowing for certain – all he had was his intuition. Yet he could not shake the inexplicable certainty, no matter how hard he tried to reason it away or how Antony expressed his doubts. He just knew.

Hadrian also understood that he could not sway Antony by logic to his way of thinking. There was no logic behind it.

So he opened his mind. 

He held nothing back, allowing Antony to sense his conviction, his awareness that it was ridiculous but the persistence that remained despite of it. Hadrian showed Antony the beating recognition that called to him, the urge to find its source.

“You’re that certain?” Antony asked.

“Yes,” Hadrian said. “I am. I really am.”

Antony exhaled. He looked at Hadrian, then around the room. There was no one there except for them, the only two living persons amidst a sea of quiet desolation. Hadrian waited, his breath paused in his chest.

“Well,” Antony said finally, ending the suspense, “I suppose it would be better if we went back with something that’s immediately useful.”

“It might not even be useful,” Hadrian pointed out, “but I will be able to rest easier once I find out what’s been calling to me.”

Antony gave him a look that plainly told Hadrian to shut up before he changed his mind. 

Crossing over to the entrance, Hadrian peered inside. There did not appear to be much inside, except for a single console and what appeared some sort of shape obscured by a covering in the middle. It was large space, almost bigger than the bridge. As Hadrian entered, the lights flickered on, showing a floor of white leading to an airlock formed by a force field. 

That was interesting in itself; modern technology was capable of that, but energy requirements made it highly impractical. That was not what caught Hadrian’s attention. 

The shape in the center was a ship. A Familiar ship.

Hadrian recognized the silhouette anywhere, even if this one was covered by a tarp. Next to him, Antony gave an audible gasp.

“I think I know why you felt that call now,” he said. “This is your Familiar.”

“What?” Hadrian stared at Antony. “What do you mean, this is my Familiar?”

The process in which a psion bonded with a Familiar was a highly controlled one. Familiars were rare, a cross between valued artifacts and endangered species. Psions were rigorously screened and tested before they were deemed ready to even meet one. That was where Hadrian always failed, that crucial step where the Familiar would reach out to their potential counterpart’s mind.

Yet Antony’s words struck deep in his psyche, where hope reside. Against all rationality, Hadrian was excited. Could it be? 

He probed with his mind, towards that source of the force drawing him in. 

It responded with a burst of warm recognition. The tarp fell off, to reveal the sleek starfighter underneath. 

It was slightly different than Luminosity. There was a translucent coloring to the hull’s sheen that made it almost appear invisible, blending into the surroundings, as the light appeared to bend around the ship. It shimmered slightly, even as Hadrian blinked. 

A small, round shape jumped out of the ship to meet them.

It was a cat, plump with a lustrous blue-grey coat and orange eyes that stared at the two humans. Its tail flicked as it regarded them with curiosity. 

“Hello,” Hadrian said. “I’m Hadrian Lee.”

“It took you long enough to get here,” the cat said irritably. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” She regarded its paw. Hadrian noticed the claws were sharp. “Also, you look a mess. Hasn’t anyone told you it’s good manners to be presentable in your best robes when meeting your Familiar for the first time?”

“We were attacked by the androids on here,” Hadrian said defensively. He nonetheless tried to smooth away the noticeable wrinkles on his robes. “It’s been a long day, alright?”

The cat snorted. “Please. If you can’t handle those things, you’re not fit to be Bonded to me. Although they are tenacious, I’ll grant you that.” Her eyes fell on Antony. “Who’s that? Your lover? How did he end up with you? He’s so much better dressed.”

“Hey!” Hadrian exclaimed as Antony bellowed with laughter. 

“I’m serious. He’s wearing silk robes of the first grade and you’re … well, I’m not sure what you’re wearing. Some sort of blend, my scan tells me.”

“She has good taste,” Antony said to Hadrian. “And a good eye.” He reached out his hand, scratching the cat behind her ears as her back arched. “I’m Antony. Cheung.”

“I’m Incandescence,” the cat said, preening at Antony’s touch. 

Hadrian smiled at the sight, reminded of how touching another’s Familiar was a sign of their intimacy. Antony together with Hadrian’s Familiar touched him; he was glad that they liked each other. 

His Familiar … Incandescence … he had a Familiar. 

Hadrian had long since secretly given up hope of Bonding with one. To find one compatible with him now, in such unpredictable circumstance, unsettled him. He was almost afraid to believe this is real.

Both Incandescence and Antony turned to him.

“It’s real,” Incandescence’s voice was gentle, kinder than it had been. “I know your mind. I can feel the connection between us. You can too, can’t you?”

Wordlessly, Hadrian nodded. He did. It was snug and reassuring, like an old friend, mixed with the exhilaration of knowing he wasn’t defective, that he was not a freak faced with ostracism and rejection, that he was not alone. 

He had Incandescence now. 

She took up a residence in his mind that shone like a campfire on a chilly night, comforting and much more steadfast. 

“Yes,” she said, walking to him, her tail curling around ankle. “We’re going to have a great time, you and me. However, we need to complete the Bonding. Normally, the occasion would be much more ceremonial, with all the pomp and circumstances it demands, but honestly, all you need to do is open your mind to me.”

I thought I already did. Hadrian stared at the cat, puzzled. 

She gave an impatient noise, reverting back her feline temper. “Our connection isn’t complete. You and I are compatible, and we accept each other, but we need to fully integrate our minds in order for us to become Bonded Familiar and psion.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Antony said. He placed a hand on Hadrian’s back. “It’s like when you opened your mind to me – you just experience everything together. Share them. You become one.”

Hadrian looked at the blue cat, watching him with those expressive orange eyes. He did want that, he realized. He didn’t just want a Familiar to prove his father wrong or to fit in to fulfill the expectations they had of him as a son of the Head of the Lee Clan. He wanted to have someone to share his thoughts, his moods, his experiences with. He stared at the cat, looked up at Antony.

And smiled.

Now he had two. 

Hadrian was about to ask Incandescence what he needed to do when it came to him. He knew. 

He put his hand on her head, gently, stroking the soft fur that rippled against his fingers, as he inhaled and exhaled slow. His mind relaxed, the ramparts that guarded his thoughts falling.

He envisioned Incandescence’s mental signature as a fire, burning softly now, but capable of turning into an immolation that consumed all who threatened her and those she held dear. He saw that she was old, much older than Hadrian could even guess, with experiences that spanned the gamut of emotions, human or otherwise.

She meowed, and Hadrian returned to the present, his head still spinning from the vehemence of the sharing. 

He could still sense her, his awareness of her receding to a more manageable level in his head. 

With a start, Hadrian realized that being Bonded with a Familiar meant that this presence will never disappear. The strength of it will wax and wane, but it will never truly vanish.

“How are you?” Antony asked softly. Belatedly, Hadrian realized Antony’s hand was still on his back. It seemed to belong there.

“I feel like I had just jumped space five times in a row,” Hadrian said. Then he thought of something. “The ship! There’s a ship too.”

“Yes,” Incandescence said, amused. She rubbed her paw on the floor. “It’s a package deal. The ship comes with me. You’ll have to fly me back to the Orbital. Or I’ll have to fly you. In any case, it’s coming with us.”

Hadrian should have remembered when they Bonded, Incandescence saw his memories, his experiences as he had hers. He managed a small smile. “I think I can manage.”

Then he rubbed his head. There was something fuzzy in it, an addition that didn’t quite seem to fit with the rest. 

He poked at it, tried to read it —

And was met with gibberish that made him wince. 

“I’m not sure about that either,” Incandescence said, her tail waving back and forth. “It’s a part of my experience but it seems to be locked somehow. I thought having a psionic Bond would be able to break it, but I guess not.”

“Is it important?” Hadrian asked. 

“It must be. But I guess if we’ve lived without knowing it for the past hundreds of years, then it won’t kill us to wait a bit longer to figure it out.”

Antony looked at them both. Their connection remained, undiminished by Hadrian’s Bonding with his Familiar. 

“It might be that you two need time to familiarize yourself before whatever that is becomes understandable to you,” he said. “Not everything can be instantaneous.”

It also didn’t matter to Hadrian at the moment as he jumped into the ship, Incandescence disappearing into the hull to return to her ship body. 

Hadrian put his hands into the socket, hearing a little snick as the starfighter verified his identity. 

It was different, sitting in the pilot’s seat than on Antony’s lap. Data streamed into his mind, at a faster pace than he could handle if he had tried to do so unaided. He saw with his mind eye the controls, overlaid on the panels with a parallel effect that disoriented him despite having trained for it. Simulations were no replacement for the complexity of reality.

You also don’t have a lot of the bio-enhancement that makes piloting me easier, Incandescence thought. I understand your feelings about them, but that is the truth of it.

Maybe I’ll have to revisit my opinion, Hadrian thought. Now that I’m piloting a Familiar fighter.

It isn’t that disruptive, came Incandescence’s thought. Once you become used to it. It’s good, too, to be faster and stronger and have sharper reflex than most.

I’m not a fighter anyways, Hadrian answered as he acclimated. He had only been sitting in the cockpit for upwards of a few minutes, he realized. Yet it seemed longer than that, the information in his mind having been absorbed at a rate that normally would have taken days. It was part of the benefit of Bonding with a Familiar; it enabled the human mind to access her computing power.

There was a new sharpness to his vision too, as the extra memory capacity enabled by the Bond allowed his mind to store and process more details. 

“How does it feel?” Antony asked, his face appearing through the cockpit. “It’s an intense experience, your first time.”

Hadrian rubbed his temples as the socket released his hand. “I feel like I had just stayed up all night to study for an exam. Except I actually remember the information.”

Antony laughed. “Yeah … it can feel like that. But it helps, doesn’t it? You have to be careful, though; sometimes if you engage the additional brainpower too quickly, you can suffer neural damage. There is a limit to how much information the human mind can handle at once.”

“That’s correct,” Incandescence’s voice sounded, using the speaker. “Human minds are so frail sometimes. I have protocols to limit the strain our connection places on it, but you’ll have to exercise your own judgement too.” She paused. “I seem to have a weak link with you, Antony Cheung. Not as complete as the one I do with Hadrian, but I seem to be able to piggyback off his tie to you.”

“I feel it too,” Antony said. “I thought it was odd, how my own Familiar was able to connect with Hadrian so easily. I guess it’s the same with you and me. I don’t think I’ve heard of this before.” 

“Part of what makes a psion so special is the empathy, the ability to share and connect with others,” Incandescence said. “Also part of the disadvantage. It’s a fine line between strength and weakness.” 

“Enough philosophizing,” Hadrian said, a little peeved that his ship and his – friend – were carrying on a conversation without him. “What other tips do you have for me?”

“Can’t think of any right now,” Incandescence said, with the vocal equivalent of a shrug, “except don’t do anything reckless. Now, do you want to take me for a flight? It’s the only way we can go down to the main hangar, anyways.”

“How do we do that?” Hadrian asked. “I mean, we can blow up the airlock, but that doesn’t seem like a very good idea to me.”

“I’m going to deactivate the solid separation field,” Incandescence said. There was a small beep. Hadrian couldn’t see anything change with the airlock, but he assumed something about the field composition changed and it was permeable. “Your friend can come with us too. You know, fly down the way you came to this fortress.”

“I think I’ll let you have your virgin flight by yourself,” Antony said. He had a little smile. “You should get used to flying. You’ll be great, I guarantee you.”

Hadrian looked at the ship’s panel. In his double-vision, figures and charts sprang up, detailing everything from the ship’s energy level to the armament level to radiation scanning and radar. It was a more complicated version of the trainer craft’s panels they used back on the Clanship, but Hadrian understood everything. 

Instinct took over. Hadrian saw in his mind’s eye the systems for the fighter go green, initializing as the whirl of machinery grew louder. Hadrian shunted the background noise to the back of his mind as he concentrated. 

The ship moved, slowly, gathering speed as it neared the airlock. Despite knowing it was deactivated, Hadrian tensed, his mental “finger” on the trigger, ready to blast away the obstacle they closed in –

There was no need; the ship jumped through without impact, and for a moment Hadrian was suspended in that half-world between the fortress and the emptiness of space.

Hadrian checked the systems with a scrutiny that bordered on anxiety as the ship dropped “down” relative to the airlock. The radiation shields protecting them from the exhaust and space particles, the stats about his coordinates, speed, acceleration – Hadrian took all of that in, absorbed them as Incandescence made the necessary adjustments.

Are we going to run into any of those drones? Hadrian asked her. He showed her an image of the greeting they had gotten from them when they found the fortress.

There aren’t more of those, Incandescence responded. You destroyed the last two. The others were used up during the last pirate raid before I went to sleep.

Went to sleep. It was a term all the Familiars used to describe the period between when they were deactivated following the Fall of the Old Dynasty and their reawakening by a psion in the modern age. None of them could remember what had happened that lead up to the events, and the historians had to rely on the bits and pieces they found from surviving documents and other archaeological evidence to piece together an incomplete picture.

I don’t remember much of what happened either, Incandescence thought in response to Hadrian’s ruminations. But I do remember there were pirate attacks on the fortress when the garrison was depleted to only a skeleton crew during the height of the Fall. 

Well, I guess it isn’t of much importance now, Hadrian thought. As long as there aren’t any more welcoming committees. 

Pity. An edge shimmered with Incandescence’s statement. It would have been a perfect way to test if my weaponry was still operational.

Hadrian laughed as they reentered the fortress through the main blast doors. He felt, rather than saw, Luminosity raise her alertness, her beamers pointed at them as she sensed an incoming craft.

Then, with some surprise, she reached out. Is that you, Hadrian? With a Familiar?

Yes, Hadrian replied. Her name is Incandescence.

Luminosity regarded them, her interest apparent in her mental scrutiny. No wonder you also felt that signal, she thought. I should’ve realized that it was another Familiar. I didn’t know one was here.

I was, Incandescence thought. I am. Not that I mind you disturbing my sleep. Too much makes me cranky anyways.

Antony entered the hangar just as Hadrian jumped out of the cockpit. 

“I see you two have met,” he said to Luminosity and Incandescence. A silver streak jumped out as Luminosity returned to her fox form.   
She looked at Hadrian. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said. Hadrian did not feel any different. Bonding with his Familiar was a life-changing experience, a pivotal point, but nothing seemed to have changed, except for a faint beat that now existed in the back of his mind.

The two ships faced each other like mirror images, Incandescence a ghostly reflection of Luminosity, Incandescence’s hull almost transparent in contrast.

Incandescence jumped out too, her feline shape sprightly as she padded over. She was small compared to Luminosity as she examined Luminosity’s nine-tails with curiosity. Hadrian hoped Incandescence doesn’t attempt to touch one of them. 

“Your ship looks different,” Luminosity said to the cat. “It looks like there’s a different coating compared to mine. It also appears to be denser.”

“It is,” the cat said. “It’s meant to reduce detection by sensors and the hull is stabilized by a stasis generator. It protects the hull’s structural integrity when hit. There’s also some sort of cloaking device that I don’t think is fully operational.” The cat frowned. “Given the state of technology in this era, I’m not certain if it’ll ever be now.”

“The humans do seem to have forgotten a lot,” the fox agreed. “Such are their limitations.”

“I know, right? At least we’re able to Bond with them and learn faster. So at least we should consider ourselves lucky.”

Hadrian gave a little cough. “If you two are finished ….”

The cat looked unapologetically at him. “Well, you can’t blame me for stating the truth. But I suppose I’m stuck with you. It’s a good thing I like your mind.”

“Why do you only have a third of the armaments I do?” Luminosity asked, circling around Hadrian’s ship. “It looks like you have two-thirds more of generator capacity, too.”

The cat gave a most feline shrug. “I’m not sure. For the stasis generator and the cloaking device, maybe? They do take up a lot of energy.”

“I suppose we can race to see if it plays a role in your speed,” Luminosity said, “if Hadrian is up for it.”

“I am most definitely not,” Hadrian said, recalling the race on the gas giant. “But I would like to study the ship’s systems later, when I have the resources. As well as the fortress’s systems. I think I downloaded all I can onto my handheld. I had to jettison a lot of old files to fit the memory storage.”

“Oh, there was no need for that,” Incandescence said. “I have all the files and data from the fortress’s mainframe with me. I’ll send it to you later. I assume we’re returning to this Fragrant Orbital?”

“You should have told me that earlier!” Hadrian was annoyed. He had to delete his files for the project he was currently working on, a thesis on a potential algorithm to streamline node-connections when Familiars communicated through mindspace. “And yes, we are returning to Fragrant Orbital.”

“You have backup files,” the cat said. She jumped back into the ship. “Are you ready to go, or do you want to stay on the fortress and look around for a bit longer? There isn’t much, I can tell you that. It’s mostly housing for the garrison and storage space for the drones and various weapons. I think there’s some sort of entertainment complex too, in the upper levels, but you really can’t enjoy anything since the fortress’ power generators are mostly dead.”

Antony shook his head. “There’s no time. I’m assuming you know the political situation facing the Orbital right now. We need to return as soon as possible. They might need us. And now that we have another psion-Familiar pair, it would definitely shift the balance of power in our favor.” He jumped back into his fighter, the fox not far behind. 

Hadrian did the same, feeling the cat come up and still under his feet before the body disappeared into the hold of the ship. 

All systems green, Incandescence thought. 

All systems ready, Luminosity responded.

Are you good to go? Antony asked Hadrian.

Hadrian gave the mental equivalent of a nod, sending his affirmation back. 

They took off, two sleek shapes more work of art than the deadly machinery they were. Hadrian leaned back into his seat, feeling the material underneath adjust to the movement. Through his double vision, he saw labels of coordinates, along with the figures on the ship’s systems interposed against the great vastness of the universe, blinking against the glitter of stars and the swirl of nebulae. They were only two tiny specks in the dazzling backdrop. 

They were going home.


	4. Chapter 4

Here among the stars, with Antony by his side, Hadrian was literally on top of the world. He looked out and saw the nebulae, spread out like the spumes of some great wave, a rich hue of so many colors, dotted with bursts of energy and starcrafts. 

There were so many. Hadrian admired them, the long cylindrical shape, the gleam of their polished shine, the curl of energy like smoke from the mouths of their cannons….

Battleliners. His awe turned into horror.

Fragrant Orbital was under attack.

Despite the warmth in the cockpit, Hadrian went cold. Then he thought to Antony, their link formed by the power of their minds that existed outside of space-time: what should we do? 

Antony’s panic and rage was apparent. It burned, blazing, out of control as he absorbed the awful sight in front of them. 

It was terrifying and strangely affecting, as the warships released a volley that would have reduced a planet’s surface to slag. In that moment, Hadrian grasped the full capacity of humanity’s destructive impulses, the willingness to unleash fiery, radioactive hell upon hundreds of millions of people. 

Do we attack? Incandescence asked. My analysis predicts a chance of success is small but within the window of possibility.

What chance had they, these two small insignificant mites in the universe, could do against those behemoth beasts? Not only were there four battleliners – they were too far for Hadrian to determine their ratings – but a swarm of frigates and escort vessels accompanied them. Hadrian would bet the dust-like spots darting between were startfighters, Stingers just as maneuverable as any Familiar. 

Hardly. Incandescence gave a mental snort. I don’t need to list their full disadvantages when it comes to a space superiority battle, but just the fact that their small generators limit their weapons should be enough. And I haven’t fully assimilated your experiences into my own, but I estimate each of those battleliners carry up to seven hundred and forty cannons. 

Third-rates then. Still enough firepower to destroy a lesser fleet. Hadrian tamped down the fear that rose through him like bile. Antony still did not respond. Hadrian tried again, this time more forcefully, thundering in Antony’s mind.

I’M THINKING. His reply shook in Hadrian as Antony combated his dueling fury and logic. Hadrian could sense that he desperately wanted to attack, Antony’s finger about to pull the trigger.   
But there were too many unknown variables to be certain of success. Not to mention the fact that they might be needed elsewhere.

An icon flashed, the character for mail.

Incoming transmission from the Orbital, Incandescence informed him. 

Connect to message, Hadrian thought.

“Antony, Hadrian, we need you back on the Orbital.” Master Cheung’s voice was strained and exhausted. 

Hadrian let out the breath he had been holding. They were alive. The Orbital was still functional. All weren’t lost yet. 

The relief from Antony was even stronger; his tension, an almost physical force in Hadrian’s mind, sagged, as Antony sought to rein in his emotions.

“Understood,” he said, his voice sounding coolly collected as always over their comm-link. 

“The starport’s disabled and occupied by the Protectorate,” Master Cheung said.   
“Land directly on the Orbital, at the Residency. We’re HQ’d there for the moment.”

“Understood,” Antony said. He paused. “Any update on the situation that might affect our approach?”

“There’s a loose blockade around the Orbital,” Master Cheung said, “though the majority of the ships are concentrated at one point to use their cannons to the maximum effect. I expect your ship will probably be able to get through the rest of them. Hadrian, your ship is registering similar stats to a Familiar. I assume you’ll be able to do it too.”

“She is a Familiar, sir.” Hadrian let the pride seep in in his voice. “I just Bonded with one at the space fortress.”

There was a stunned silence. Then: “Congratulations! This will change our calculations a bit.” 

Hadrian heard the unmistakable warmth in Master Cheung’s voice, along with surprise and hope. Hadrian understood. Even having one Familiar starfighter altered the odds of resistance. 

Space warfare had evolved and stagnated in line with the development of interstellar travel. The distances between warships were just too vast, and closing in meant being exposed and blasted to smithereens by powerful cannons and missiles. A ship could not jump space, either; the space-time distortion at close proximity risked destruction to both vessel and crew. Tactics essentially stagnated to a waiting game, a high-tech equivalent of the two sides lobbing rocks at each other, except these were deadly projectiles and electromagnetic beams. It was why ships massing their guns to maximize their intensity was so important.

Starfighters were maneuverable enough to avoid the fire and Hadrian knew of several instances where they managed to defeat small squadrons of larger crafts. But a starfighter could not penetrate both the defensive screen of a battleliner’s escorts and armor.

With the exception of the Familiars. They alone carried the armaments that could penetrate a batteliner’s defenses and fight off the screen of other ships protecting it. Several military tacticians had also shown it was theoretically possible for a Familiar ship to jump space close enough with only minor damage, using so many proofs and equations that Hadrian’s head ache just to look at them.

But it was possible.

And now the Cheungs had two more on their side. It was a small wonder that Master Cheung had not shouted with joy at the news. 

But Hadrian’s own inexperience limited his usefulness. He was not skilled enough to maneuver pass the screen, nor was he confident enough about jumping space directly to a battleliner.

You don’t need to think about that now, Antony’s voice sounded in Hadrian’s head. Our task right now is to return to the Orbital. We need to be updated on the situation before we decide on any course of action.

Hadrian nodded, then remembered Antony couldn’t see him. Understood. 

They raced towards that city in space, two tiny dots dwarfed and ignored by the rampaging leviathans.

~~

They landed, exhaust blasting the tarmac, Hadrian trying to keep his breathing steady. 

There had been no opposition initially; Master Cheung had been right about the orbital-wide cordon being only loosely enforced. Not a single frigate in sight.

It was not until they reached the membrane airlock that formed the Orbital’s atmosphere when two frigates descended upon them.

They had registered on the ship’s sensors, the blips growing sharper and larger every second. Data had flashed through his mind, Incandescence’ sensors providing details on their speeds, rate of accelerations, weapon systems.

The enemy had also registered in Hadrian’s mind. The crews’ emotions, elated and incredulous after days of nonaction, had rang in his head, along with apprehension that it was a trap.

Antony had been ready. He had fired as soon as the ships showed on his display. 

Alarms had blared throughout his head, as Hadrian’s mind, too attuned to the crew’s, relayed their experience. 

Their shock, a sob of fear — he never wanted this; he had only enlisted because they’d promise he’d never go hungry again —

Hadrian had gasped as the death-cries of its crew screamed and cut off. But even before he could process what had happened, Antony had primed his missiles again, launched them at the second frigate. 

There had been a breath of hope from the remaining ship as its crew aimed its shield guns at the missile, attempting to interdict its trajectory. Hadrian had felt that confidence drain and turning to alarm as the missile, armed with crude armor, shrugged off the beam and collided – 

Hadrian had fought to retain consciousness as waves of agony inundated him, then vanished, leaving his head burning as it vibrated with the aftermath of the crew’s death onboard the now-hulk.

He could barely stand as the cockpit released with a hiss, and tech crews ran up the tarmac, running cords and fuel lines to the ship. Someone reached a hand in, almost hauling him out.

It was Antony. His face was pale and set, but otherwise, he showed no indication that anything noteworthy had happened, that it had been just another training flight. Hadrian didn’t know how he could do it, how he could just disconnect like that when Hadrian knew Antony had experienced those people’s last moments just like him –

Antony’s face was hard. “If it weren’t them, it would have been us,” he said tightly, his hand gripping Hadrian’s arms. “You felt their fear and pain, I felt their hate and lust for our deaths.”

Hadrian didn’t say anything. He could only stand there, quivering uncontrollably. If he did anything else other than focus on staying upright, he would collapse onto the airstrip.

He was dimly aware of chaotic activity around him, shouts and engine roars and loud crash of machinery as the techs swarmed around them, some of them medics hovering with air-syringes, others with scanners taking his pulse.

Something soft brushed at his ankles. 

Incandescence looked up at him, round orange eyes against blue fur that was almost black and blended into the tar of the landing strip. 

“Antony’s right, you know,” she said softly. “It was them or us. I would have done the same.”

He saw a flash of silver from the corner of his eye as Luminosity came to join them. Hadrian closed his eyes, then opened them. His heart rate was still erratic, his breathing coming in sharp bursts as he tried to jettison what he had just experienced. 

But he couldn’t. Was that how being in battle felt? The awful crash of emotions and memories, the shared link between enemies, enhanced by the need to gauge the opponent’s responses. It let the pilot gainthe upper hand by predicting the next move based on the foe’s intentions. 

Hadrian understood all that. Logically, he had to admire the tactical brilliance of it. But now, having personally lived it, he was only left sickened. He had not even been the one to pull the trigger either. Antony had done that. 

A chilling thought occurred to him. One day, he might have to be the one that pulled the trigger instead of Antony. And he would be the cause of those deaths.

A hand touched his cheek softly.

“Hey,” Antony said quietly. “You with me?”

Hadrian inclined his head. It was the most he could manage. Hadrian wondered how Antony managed it, how he had remained so strong in that onslaught. He was right. Incandescence too. The frigates would have killed them, captured or blown up their ships. There should have been no room for regrets. 

Perhaps Hadrian was just weak.

“You’re not.” Antony’s thumb brushed Hadrian’s cheek. “It takes even more strength sometimes to let yourself feel.”

Hadrian drew a ragged breath. He forced a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like that. I’ll … get used to it.”

Antony placed his arms around Hadrian, allowing the hard shell to melt away until there were only the two of them. Hadrian leaned his head on Antony’s shoulder, relishing the solidity, the constancy, in the upheaval of his emotions. He relaxed into the embrace, calming as he tried to let the memory fade. 

Hadrian could stay like this forever. He wanted to stay like this forever, forgetting the outside world, not worrying about wars or interstellar politics.

Underneath the maelstrom of emotions was gratitude. That Antony was alright, unharmed and by his side, and Hadrian knew he would rather face those battleliners than see Antony hurt.

He would even launch the missiles himself if he had to. 

The cat jumped up in the middle, in between them, followed the fox. Hadrian did not how the hug became so crowded.

Antony gave a soft chuckle. “It kind of tickles. All this fur.”

“It’s warm and nice,” Hadrian said. His hand scratched Incandescence’s ears. “I like it.”

“And me too, I hope,” Luminosity said, her voice slightly muffled.

Hadrian laughed. “Of course.”

They remained like that, just the four of them.

~~

The Situation Room still disoriented Hadrian. He watched as one of the Cheung’s top officers, a woman named Denise Ho, present the military situation they faced.

It was dire, though not as much as Hadrian had imagined. They had warning of the battlegroup’s approach and had evacuated the civilian population. Only the Cheung’s retainers and a group of volunteers remained on the Orbital. A skeleton force, one incapable of holding the line against the Protectorate’s forces. 

Except the Orbital’s own defenses had proven unexpectedly hardy, withstanding the battleliner’s cannons and sealing out the attackers from landing large troopships. Vigilant Familiar patrols and a robust space-ground missile system prevented smaller ships from landing, picking them off as they struggled through the airlock, the Orbital’s own intelligence altering the membrane thicker to keep out anything larger than a shuttle. 

Even so, the Orbital was enormous, with a vast amount of open area that in better days served as parks and natural for the residents to enjoy. If Protectorate managed to land troops, it would be a relentless wave of attrition no matter how valiant or alert they were. It was all they could do to stop a large-scale attack. 

“Our supplies cannot last.” Ho finished her report with her mouth in a grim slash. “I estimate a year, probably less, at the rate we’re going. Probably less, because the Protectorate will increase the frequency of their raids against our depots.”

“What about our allies?” Antony asked. “Surely they’re not ignoring us. We still have communications, right?”

She nodded. “We’re in contact daily about our situation here. However, the other Clanships are under attack too.” She sent an apologetic look at Hadrian, clearly worried about him reacting to the news. “There’s also a large force in particular attacking the Lee Clanship.”

“I see.” Hadrian felt hollow. Logically, he expected that. It made sense, after all, for the Protectorate to launch simultaneous strikes – the element of surprise negated the psion Clans’ ability to coordinate and come to each other’s aids. This must have been decades in the planning, given this familiarity with the Clans’ weaknesses and the slow travel of courier-based communications to avoid the psions overhearing with Familiar links.

Imagining the glittering spires of the Clanship wreathed in bursts of plasma-fire, the great spokes of the craft blackened and bent, though, it struck Hadrian with a terror he could not reason away.

“But they’re holding them off,” she added hastily at Antony’s glare. “They have a much larger military force than we do, us being primarily a trading post.”

“What is their cause?” Hadrian asked. “Surely the Protectorate government knows that attacking the psions would cause collapse on a galactic scale.” Information flowed through the networks of psions managing them with the Familiar connections. It underpinned modern civilization to an unprecedented degree. Without the secure and reliable system formed by the psions, Hadrian could not see how anything still managed to function. 

“The Protectorate government claims that we have attacked their Commissioner unprovoked, and that we have violated the agreements protecting our autonomy.” Her face showed exactly what she thought of that argument. “The Core Clusters of Protectorate systems are close enough to each other that the disruption to the psionic network is minimized, though it has caused massive commercial and civilian disruption, and apparently the Protectorate have been training with couriers that the lack of Familiar connections is no more than a serious annoyance.” 

Hadrian clenched his fist. He had hoped that self-interest amidst the disruption would exert enough pressure to prevent bloodshed.

“It has split the known galaxy,” Master Cheung said, in response to Hadrian’s agitation. “The centralized half, the Clusters Colonies and sectors with strong Protectorate garrisons, have declared for the Protector. But those at the peripheral have sided with us.” He considered the chart highlighting the different sides. Half and half. 

“This is in our advantage, isn’t it?” Antony asked. “The longer the disruptions, the more likely dissent is to occur.”

“Yes and no,” Ho said. “Our resources are limited in scale compared to the Protectorate’s, and it is possible that they will run out before any civil unrest becomes unmanageable for the Protector.” 

“So what are our options?” Hadrian asked. “What can we do?”

Ho’s face slammed taut. “Survive. Long enough for aid to come, to defeat the siege so we can escape. Our engineers are already working on propulsion methods to move the Orbital out. There has to be room for us in the infinitude of space.” 

Hadrian sensed Antony’s revulsion at the idea. Run and hide like cowed rats? 

“No,” Antony said aloud. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s possible to face them in a war of attrition. They’ll wear down our defenses, grind us into oblivion.”

“Then we don’t fight defensively,” Antony said. “We take the fight to them.”

“How do you mean to do that?” Master Cheung asked. 

“We have speed and communications on our side,” Antony said, his eyes glittering. “And once we get rid of the attackers and move, we will essentially be nomadic. Hit and run raids will allow us to tie the Protectorate forces down. And once enough of them are distracted … we strike at their nerve centers. Major military installations, worlds with strategic or commercial value, maybe even the Capital itself.”

Hadrian had to admit Antony had a point. But – “That’s only if we break this siege,” he said. “If we don’t, then all this becomes pointless.”

Master Cheung agreed. “All of you have your points. I think we can gain an advantage if we repulse this initial wave with Antony’s strategy, but that’s an outcome we need to make sure happens.” 

Antony gazed unseeingly upon the holoprojection of the system. “I know.” 

“How are we to do that?” another officer asked. “Our forces are already tied down as it is, and even with the addition of another Familiar, we would be hard pressed to free any up.”

“Hard pressed but not impossible.” Hadrian spoke without thinking. “History does not have many examples of a weaker force winning against a superior force, but it is not devoid of them either. It’ll take careful planning and not a little bit of luck, but I think we can pull this off.”

“I’m sorry, but how are you any way qualified to comment on military strategy?” that officer asked. There was an unpleasant quality to his question. “You have less experience working with Familiars than any of us here.” 

Antony stiffened. He opened his mouth, but Hadrian placed a hand on his arm. Hadrian did not need to be a psion to sense the tension in the room. They were on a knife’s edge; any misstep threatened to tear what little unity they had. 

“It’s true,” Hadrian said, directly to the officer. “I have less experience than anyone here, and even less knowledge of military affairs. But I do have my logic, and I do understand the danger we’re in. If you want to discount my opinion, then by all means do so – I completely understand. But you can’t ignore the fact that Antony’s idea is a good one.”

“He’s right,” Ho said. “If we strike while the opportunity’s hot, our blow will be felt much more strongly by the Protectorate. Whether we decide to leave the Protectorate after or not, it’ll give us much more leverage, and more options.”

Hadrian could tell the man’s edge eased. He hadn’t meant to insult Hadrian, only question whether his naïveté and feelings for Antony had clouded his judgement, and he wasn’t sure of the propriety of someone outside their Clan attending their strategy meeting. To hear someone else approve of the suggestion, though, that lessened his misgivings. 

Looking around, Hadrian could tell no one else had detected that subtle shift in mood. Hadrian had always lacked that discipline that barricaded his mind from leaking emotions to other psions, but at the same time, that meant he was more sensitive to nuances that others missed. He spoke more gently: “If you would prefer I wait outside, I would be happy to do so.”

“There’s no need for that.” Master Cheung spoke decisively. “You should stay. This concerns you too, and you’re the representative of your Clan. As of now, the Lees are our most powerful allies.”

That brought Hadrian up short. He was. His task now was not limited to ensuring that their alliance remained visible to the Protectorate; it came now with very real responsibilities to press his father to send aid to the beleaguered Orbital.

“I will see my father send all the help that we can offer,” Hadrian said in a low voice. “I understand that if one falls, we all fall. What of the other Clans?”

“The Liang and the Ao Clans are further in the galactic peripheral and have not yet come under attack,” Master Cheung said. “They both have not yet fully mobilized, and can only send a minimum of aid, mostly foodstuff. We decided that those might be better directed to the Lee’s, since they’re more likely to be in need of those to sustain their offensive against the Protectorate forces.”

“I thought they were under siege?”

“Our calculations give it a high chance that their counterattack will gain them the momentum,” Ho said. “In that case, they will be in need of more logistical support than we do. What we need is to break the siege by the Protectorate.”

And none of them had any idea how to do that. 

~~

The meeting ended on a less contentious note, but as each of the officers filtered out, it was clear from the subdued mood how grave they thought their situation was.

Hadrian could not disagree with that assessment. He rested on the walls of the hallway, massaging his temples. They ached from worry and Hadrian trying to run possible historical analogues to their current predicament. Like what he said in the meeting, the strong may defeat the weak, but the smart will beat the strong. They needed to be smart. 

Hadrian knew their advantages as well as any of the Cheung’s tacticians. The problem was, so did the Protectorate. It was why four battleliners were present when one was typically enough to pacify an entire quadrant. Overwhelming firepower and numerical advantage outweighed the surprise element and maneuverability that the psions had on their side. 

Hadrian sighed. He wished now he had paid more attention in Tactics and Strategy class. 

“Don’t make this entire situation your responsibility,” Antony said.

Hadrian jumped. He had not even noticed Antony coming up to him; last he saw, Antony was deep in conversation with his father and Denise Ho. 

“We finished,” Antony said, a small smile playing on his face. “We didn’t reach an agreement, but –” he shrugged. He seemed remarkably calm, thought Hadrian. 

“I have to be,” Antony said. He grinned at Hadrian. “You do need to secure your moods better. I don’t even need to feel it; I could see it on your face.” 

“That’s rude, you know.” Hadrian glared without heat. “Besides, what if I’m thinking rude thoughts about you?”

“Then I’d know you were feeling alright,” Antony laughed. 

Hadrian had to smile at that. 

“I wish it can be like normal times so we can be normal,” he said wistfully. “You know I haven’t even had time to explore most of the Orbital? Events just moved so fast. I don’t think I’ve even to anywhere outside of Central.”

“We can fix that,” Antony said. “The Orbital hasn’t gone anywhere, and places are still open. If you willing, I can still show you around.”

“I thought it was mostly evacuated?”

“It is. But some wanted to stay anyways, regardless of the risk to themselves.”

Hadrian could understand. This was their home; for some, it was their entire life. There was an attachment deeper to this place than mere residency: there was love and memories that they could never give up. It was why this ragtag band of volunteers fought so fiercely for this place when they could have fled. It was why Antony stayed. 

“Come,” Antony said. “I’ll show you around.”

“What, now?”

“When better?”

Hadrian couldn’t disagree with that logic. So he followed Antony out of the Residency into the city beneath. 

~~

Life seemed to be adjusting to the new normal. People were starting to venture out again: the ghost streets that Hadrian had seen in the past few days were gradually refilling. There was even a little crowd they had to maneuver around on the way.

Hadrian marveled at the power of human spirit to cope with difficulties. Even under daily bombardment, couples bickered on the streets, elegant housewives in furs haggled with hovercab drivers over fares, and food vendors with steaming carts hawked their wares.

Underneath the veneer of routine, though, there was strain. From the limited choices of the menus to the tight lips of the pedestrians, it was apparent that the siege affected them. But they still carried on.

Hadrian watched as Antony spoke to them, chatting with one hawker about the best way to fry octopus balls, and commiserating with a lady in an athletic jumpsuit about the state of the parks. Antony was a natural, capable of finding anything to talk about. And more importantly, he listened, as though every insignificant complaint were items on the Agenda on State. 

Hadrian waited until Antony finished his conversation with the hovercab driver. Hadrian had attempted to stay attention, but somewhere in between the man’s critique of youth’s fashions and the ending salvo about the new streetlights not bright enough.

“You should remind him that all energy usage are rationed for the hull stabilizers,” Hadrian said. “Of course the streetlamps aren’t bright enough. Besides, aren’t we instituting a blackout policy soon?”

“Tomorrow,” Antony said. “Let them have one more day.” He grinned. “Besides, it gives us one more day to explore, too.” 

“I wish Incandescence came,” Hadrian said. “She might like some of the sights.”

“She’s with Luminosity, up to no good probably,” Antony said. “Those two are a wild pair.” The cat and the fox wreaked terror at the Residency, startling scullery maids and maintenance bots alike as they ran around the building, jumping over furniture, knocking over priceless antiques that Antony’s ancestors collected with painstaking care. Hadrian had always assumed a computer would be much more dignified.

Antony chuckled. “They’re much more like us than they are computers. I think you’ve spent enough time around them to see that, haven’t you?”

Hadrian had. It was still a marvel, that every day he woke up with the cat watching him patiently, waiting for him to rub sleep out of his eyes before lecturing him on how he should be sleeping earlier. 

He missed her nagging already. 

“Where are we going?” Hadrian asked Antony. They had been walking for a while, the already thinned streets of the city giving way to a more wild, rural setting. Hadrian still found it interesting that the Orbital would offer parks. It was a remarkably inefficient for a space station, but then, whoever designed the Orbital wanted beauty rather than utilitarian function. 

It looked like Antony had taken him to a nature reserve of some kind. It was quiet and secluded, the trees standing tall and proud, with flowers of various hues interspersed between. An idyllic wonderland of flora and fauna. 

“Bet you never thought a space orbital would have this, did you?” Antony sat on a rock at the edge of the clearing, gesturing for Hadrian to join him. 

Hadrian inhaled the fresh air, clear and crisp, as he sat down. 

They looked down, at the hill of the clearing. It was pleasant, even if eerily empty. The foliage were thick, having enjoyed the fecundity of a controlled climate and fertile soil. At the trunk and along the ground were flowers with red and white petals and bushes with leaves in strange shapes. Some of the shrubs had long leaves greater than the length of Hadrian’s arm, others with short leaves with edges that rounded to a point. Flowers with drooping petals and vines trailed their way up the tree trunks, twining in shapely curves.

It provided respite from the noise and dirt in the more urbanized areas of the Orbital. Hadrian could understand why the engineers included refuges like these, even when real estate was such a premium. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Hadrian said, kicking his legs out. “I hardly feel like I’m on a space station.”

“That’s the point of this place,” Antony said. He was more relaxed, his face carefree and his posture losing the tension that held it upright during the meeting. “It helps to forget, just for a little bit, about what’s happening out there.” 

Some of the trees were so large their branches draped over the two, creating a canopy that obscured the view of the Sky and what laid beyond its membrane. Hadrian had no doubt that the Protectorate was out there, though. Watching. Waiting. Searching for an opening. 

There was a gentle pressure, both on his knee and in his mind. 

“Don’t think about that right now,” Antony said, as he leaned in to kiss him. 

Here in this idyllic landscape, with such a kiss, how could any worry but fade away? Hadrian allowed himself to melt into it, his hands instinctively wrapping around Antony’s waist as he moved to deepen the kiss. 

It was a balm to both of them; Antony leaned against him, pushing with a need that startled Hadrian with its forcefulness. Hadrian’s heart pounded, beating against his chest as hands roamed over his body. Insistent, hungry, always seeking more. 

They broke apart to breath, Hadrian aiming a shy glance at Antony.

“Do – ah – do a lot of people come here?”

“It is a pretty popular spot with lovers,” Antony responded with a wicked grin. “That is what we are, isn’t it?”

That beat of a silence stretched so long that it seemed like an eternity. 

Then Hadrian simply kissed him back. Words couldn’t express his emotions right now, the happiness and security that hummed within him, laced with desire that grew as they touched and explored each other. 

After a while, they just sat, pausing for breath with their fingers interlaced. Hadrian laid his head on Antony’s shoulder, filled with an airy wonder that could have had him floating. 

Antony, too, was similarly affected, arms around Hadrian, with an almost painful grip that held him tight. As though letting go would make all of this evaporate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hadrian murmured into his chest. 

There was a loud bang above them shaking them out of their content bubble. Hadrian flinched at the sound. 

“You should leave, you know,” Antony said, though making no effort to release Hadrian. “At least go back to your Clanship and be with your family. We can handle this, I promise. Besides, you’ve no military training.”

Hadrian refrained from pointing out that half of the volunteers who stayed aboard the Orbiter did not either. He understood why Antony wanted him to go, but he disagreed. He was too grateful to spend time with Antony to waste it on arguing right now.

“I want to be with you,” Hadrian said finally. “Talk, or have a meal with you. Even just simple rations, that’s enough for me.”

“There is a lot more to see,” Antony said with a small smile. “There’s really not enough time for me to show you the city, otherwise I’d take you like I promised. Maybe after the siege is lifted, I can show you the system, too. The smaller moons that occasionally us crazy pilots like to race each other around.”

That sounded wonderful. And so distant in the future. There were so much to do, so many questions to answer. Hadrian tried to not think about it, but every time he pushed the worries away, they shoved back in with even more concerns. 

He brushed his hair back. They had stayed in the clearing longer than Hadrian had expected, Antony and Hadrian fitting perfectly together. They had moved in sync, slowing, holding onto the tantalizing edge of pleasure before they looked up and realized Sky had turned dark. 

The guards snapped to a sharp salute as they saw Antony as they returned. 

“Are there any news?” Antony asked. He could have used his wristcomm but he had turned it off while he and Hadrian were together. 

The guard frowned. “It’s more quiet than usual. Usually, their scouts and raiders would be active by now. Not that I’m complaining, but it does make me nervous.”

“Maybe they’re rethinking their strategy,” Hadrian said. “Do you think they’re gearing for an attack?” 

“It’s possible.” The guard jumped moved away from the wall in one fluid motion. “I’ve put the men on the highest alert tonight. But so far, nothing.” 

“Don’t worry.” Antony took Hadrian’s hand. It was warm against his. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m here to protect you, right? I’ll kill anyone that dares touch a hair on your head.”

Antony chuckled. “Bloodthirsty, are we? That doesn’t seem like the Hadrian I know.”

“I’ll give them to Incandescence to play with.”

“Give me what to play with?” The cat jumped out, appearing from seemingly nowhere. “I’m not an actual cat, you know. I don’t need to ‘play’. Although … I do like to sharpen my claws sometimes.”

“Where were you? You didn’t destroy anything else, did you?” Hadrian asked curiously. He hoped he did not have to face another talking-to from the housekeeper that Incandescence had ripped another tapestry or tore up another Auusoon carpet. 

“Those were accidents,” Incandescence said, giving Hadrian a dour look. She laid in front of Antony, fixed him with an expectant expression.

Antony bent obligingly, scratching her belly with a practiced gesture. 

“This is how you should be greeting me,” Incandescence said to Hadrian. “Not nagging me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hadrian said contritely, lifting her up in his arms. Antony shot him an amused look. “I should never treat you like a cat. I guess I should put away the fresh trout I left out for you.”

“What fresh fish?” She swiped at Hadrian, who turned her back to him in a nimble maneuver. “I didn’t see any – ahh.” She nipped at his finger. “You’re a rude one.” 

Hadrian laughed. “Come on,” he said, giving her a pat on the head, “let’s go inside.”

The atmosphere was much more tense inside than on the streets of the city. Soldiers and officers walked with gloomy faces and chewed lips. It was just as quiet as it had been in the woods. Though in this case, it came from a deathbed hush than the serenity of nature. 

Luminosity came up to them, her fur shining, her chipper attitude a contrast to the others’. 

“We have news that your father has defeated the Protectorate forces attacking his Clanship,” she told them.

“That’s good news, isn’t it? That means they’ll be able to send reinforcements soon.”

"It could still be days,” Incandescence said. “The current location of the Clanship to the Orbital will take at least a few days, once we factor in the time it takes for the forces to regroup, the logistical support needed to be organized, and the distance it takes to get a substantial force here.”

“But the Protectorate forces might not find out in time,” Luminosity added. “That works in our favor. From what I understand, your father’s victory was complete, with no survivors.”

That sounded like Julius Lee. Failure was not a concept he was familiar with. Hadrian wasn’t even surprised.

I’m curious to meet your father, Incandescence thought to Hadrian. I want to see how he is compared to all your memories. 

Maybe we will survive this, and you will get your chance, Hadrian thought. Seeing my family again ….

Hadrian wondered if his father would be proud of him now, as they made their way back to the city. Doubtless, he had heard that his second son had Bonded with a Familiar. News like that did not stay quiet for long. 

A niggling pebble of discontent lodged itself in Hadrian’s gut as he thought about his family: his father had never sent a letter or even passed word of mouth asking about him. His brother had at least communicated regularly, passing letters with the latest couriers that docked at the Lee Clanship, reminding him every so often to behave and not embarrass the Lee name. 

He heard Antony’s voice: Let’s not worry so far ahead. We need to get through this first.

Hadrian closed his eyes, tried to allow his tension out. “You’re right.” He spoke aloud. “But we’ll get through this. We have to.”

~~

Hadrian woke in an airy atrium of light and pillows. He reclined, stretching out the tightness in his shoulders. Antony walked in, his bare chest catching with a gleam of tawny skin. 

He could become used to this view. And not just what he saw; Hadrian liked touching that, his fingers on the firm muscle underneath, his mouth hot against skin, bodies moving in tandem as they crested on the wave of pleasure.

“We should get moving soon,” Antony said, slipping on his robes. “Father asked us to conduct a patrol tonight.”

“Us?” Hadrian had not participated in one yet. Antony had, without him. Hadrian had been working with the techs on decrypting the Protectorate forces’ communications and strengthening the security on their own. Though Familiar connections were unbreakable, there were still directives to the foot soldiers that had to be issued through regular methods, and the Orbital-wide networks managing the ration system and logistics kept chaos at bay. Hadrian enjoyed the work. It was almost a puzzle to be solved, and he could almost forget the deadly implications of failure when he became absorbed in his work. 

Hadrian was not as sanguine about flying. The death-screams of the frigates’ crews still rang in his head as loudly as they did on that day Hadrian and Antony returned to the Orbital. 

Or it might be him that fell out of the sky in a burning hulk. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Antony said, his face dark. “You’ll be safe with me.”

Hadrian had no grounds to object — and he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Though he tried to help in any other way he could, Hadrian understood that patrolling the Sky for errant Protectorate frigates was the most visible method of asserting their Clans’ alliance. 

And it was of the utmost important that their alliance remained strong. The prolonged siege had weakened their resolve and though no one suggested surrender, dissent and division grew like rot. 

It would almost have been better had there been a full-scale attack. One rallied instantly in the face of brutal force. 

“When do we go?” Hadrian hoped Antony would stay by his side throughout the mission and that they wouldn’t encounter the enemy, his previous sentiment notwithstanding. 

“As soon as possible. Our patrols are shorthanded and there’s something odd with the Protectorate tonight.”

“None of the messages we intercepted indicated their strategy has changed. And they haven’t caught on to their defeat by my father yet.” Though his father’s promised reinforcements have not arrived yet, Hadrian supposed that the enemy’s ignorance was cause for celebration. “I don’t think they’ll do anything rash for the moment.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Antony said. “I’m serious. I can do it by myself. I’d rather you be safe than force you into doing something you’re not comfortable.”

“No, I can do it.” Hadrian had to. He pulled Antony down to the bed. “But I’d rather be here right now.” He let his kiss linger as he savored the taste.

Antony fell in, his weight pressing eagerly against Hadrian, the fabric of Antony’s robes soft against Hadrian’s skin as Antony obliged him.

“Ahh ….” Antony shifted away reluctantly. “I want to stay here too, but we have to go.”

Hadrian sighed. “Fine. I’ll get dressed. Can you hand me my jumpsuit? It’s at the foot of the bed.”

In contrast to other psions, even the pilots, Hadrian eschewed the billowing fluidity of traditional robes for the jumpsuit’s practicality. It was easier for sleeves not to be caught on the console keyboards or ship controls, though Familiar ships were piloted by thought rather than manually. However, from Antony’s aroused mental flash, Hadrian might repurpose the jumpsuits for … more private moments.

Antony passed it over, giving Hadrian an appreciative smirk. “Those are really tight, you know. They don’t really leave anything to the imagination.”

That wasn’t why Hadrian wore them. “Then it’s too bad that the enemy pilot can’t see me,” Hadrian said dryly. “Sex appeal is a legitimate tool of psychological warfare.” 

“Lucky them,” Antony murmured, his hands still on Hadrian’s shoulders as he helped Hadrian dress. He pressed a quick kiss against Hadrian’s neck. “Very lucky.”

“I thought you said we were in a hurry,” Hadrian pointed out, the words hitching. 

Antony let out a long exhale. “You’re right. Duty awaits.”

“As are we,” Incandescence said, with Luminosity behind her at the door. “Took you long enough. We were beginning to wonder if we should’ve just gone ourselves.”

“We weren’t taking that long,” Hadrian said, pulling on his sleeve. “And you didn’t have to wait for us. Don’t you have preflight checks to do?”

“Checking in on our pilots is our preflight routine,” Luminosity said. “We get constant updates from our ship bodies on their state. It’s much more accurate than any mechanic or technician can provide us with.”

“Any issues?” Hadrian asked. 

“There is still one system I haven’t been able to bring operational, but it doesn’t affect the core functions of the ship,” Incandescence said. “We can still fly, we can still fight, we can still jump space.”

Hadrian still didn’t like the sound of an inactive unit on his ship while he was flying. “Do you know what it’s for?”

Incandescence shook her head. “It doesn’t match the other Familiars’ schematics and I can’t really match it with the rest of my network. I don’t think they’ve fully integrated yet, Hadrian.”

“Then you should stay behind,” Antony said, his face troubled. “I don’t like the idea of flying a semi-operational ship, especially in a combat situation.”

Incandescence let out a hiss of annoyance. “You humans are too cautious sometimes. It’s simply dormant for the moment; it might be a background program that is just more prominent to me for some reason. There isn’t an issue; I guarantee it.”

Antony looked like he was about to object to that statement, but Hadrian cut him off. “I think we can trust her own assessment of her body, don’t you think, Antony?” Incandescence’s exasperation tinged his own mood, threatening to bring on a headache. 

“We do,” the fox interjected, shooting her human with a warning expression. “I fly with only half my systems online all the time. Nothing has ever happened.”

That was not quite the same as going out into potential combat, but Hadrian didn’t say so, not when he already publicly backed the idea that he would fly. “I trust in you. All of you. And I promise I won’t be a hindrance.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about so much,” Antony said. “I care about your life more than anything. If anything happens to you –”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Hadrian interrupted. “I’ll be careful. I swear it.”

“That’s good, because I won’t let anything happen to you,” the cat said, as they walked down the hallway to the tarmac where the fighters were. There was a scurry of movement. Other officers, both in psion robes and the standard uniforms of the Watch and the Defense Force, went to their respective positions, either to patrol other areas of the Orbital or monitor them from the web of surveillance that kept an ever-watchful eye. 

It was only the second time that Hadrian had sat in his cockpit, and it still exhilarated just as much as the first. The soft click as the socket closed over his hand, the double-vision as his psi-scape superimposed over the display panels, the ship data that flowed into him. 

Incandescence was right; the ship would be fine. Hadrian suspected she had been right about the program she mentioned serving some inessential role. 

Ready? Incandescence asked once Hadrian finished all his preflight checks. He supposed he didn’t need to, not if the she had already done it for him, but it soothed him. There was a meditative quality to going through the inspection and seeing all the components light green. 

Better cautious than cocky, Incandescence thought. We’ll wait for Antony and Luminosity to fly first. They can take the lead this time. 

Hadrian, you ready? Antony’s thought came through their mental link. We’ll take off as soon as the controls clear the squads ahead. 

Ready. Hadrian didn’t bother to conceal the edge. It was palpable, in his posture, in his mood. Hadrian could not hide it even if he tried.

To concentrate as well as distract himself, he entered the simulation created by the flood of incoming data from Incandescence as well as information from the Cheung’s networks that he no longer needed to hack to retrieve. 

No wonder they protected it with such zeal. Incandescence’s instruments only provided a tiny square of the vast “reality” before him. It was a much more complete landscape, akin to the holoprojection of the Situation Room, where even the tiniest gradient of details could be pinpointed with accuracy. Hadrian could even see the shading of moods both he and Incandescence picked up from the ones around them – red for agitation, blue for calm. Its use was much more suited for planning than anything else. It consumed too much mental and physical resources to sustain when one had to focus on other tasks -- including actual flight. 

Hadrian saw the Orbital, an ethereal sphere of green and silver, with dramatic tints of color that indicated everything from energy usage to the level of oxygen consumed. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

Instead, he turned his attention to the metallic clusters at one end of the sphere. He zoomed to the four battleliners, cyclopean in its size and covered with cannons. A single blast from one could destroy Hadrian’s ship. A swarm of what looked like locusts attended them; they were the attending spacecrafts. Shuttles and frigates and sloops that kept the millions onboard fed and supplied. 

Those were what Hadrian needed to be wary of – the frigates in particular. They patrolled and raided the perimeter, with a speed and maneuverability that came close to a Stinger, and firepower that matched a Familiar ship. They lacked a jumpspace drive, but that made no difference at this point. 

Hadrian could see none of those in the area he and Antony were to patrol, though situations changed faster than real-time updates. 

He was about to exit when a blast shook him out of the sim. Hadrian crashed against the cockpit, the seat softening to ease the impact. It still hurt.

What the hell? Hadrian rubbed his painful elbows, as his head filled with confusion and panic from people around him. 

“We are under attack,” a cool voice announced over the intercom. “All civilians, please evacuate to your designated shelters. All military personnel, orders will be forthcoming. Stand by for further instructions.”

“Hadrian! Antony!” Master Cheung’s voice sounded on Hadrian’s comm. “New plan: All Familiars will fly out to fend off the wave of attackers launching from the nearest battleliner. We can’t do anything about the battleliner themselves, but we can intercept their troopships and the escorting frigates and starfighters to ensure that the Protectorate doesn’t land any men onto the Orbital.”

“Understood.” Antony’s calm belied his worry. “We’ll make sure they won’t.”

“Be safe.” There was a wistful note to Master Cheung’s voice as he hung up. Hadrian inhaled. 

So this was no longer a low-risk patrol. This was combat. Hadrian steeled himself, trying to ignore the terror and the awful knowledge that he would cause another one’s death taking root in his stomach.

Just follow my lead, Incandescence told him. I generally should be able to counter any threats to the ship. But my reaction time will be dulled without you.

I have your back, Antony thought. Your task is to just get out of there in one piece. 

Understood. 

~~

They took off in a diamond formation, Antony in the lead as their most skilled pilot, Hadrian in the rear. 

Hadrian tried to ignore the pitiless churning that gnawed at him. The Protectorate’s forces were close, approaching at a relativistic speed that would only show them as dust particles if Hadrian relied on visuals alone.

However, their speed left them at a disadvantage. No electromagnetic signal could reach them at their rate of acceleration approaching superluminal levels; they would need to rely on either pre-agreed coordinates or slow down to stay in formation. 

Familiars had no such drawback; their communications defied space-time physics with the power of thought. While Hadrian lacked psychic rapport with the other two psions, their Familiars all shared one mind-link, allowing the four of them to harmonize their actions with a preternatural precision.

Plan of attack? Denise Ho asked. She had volunteered to be part of this ad hoc squadron; there was a protectiveness on her part towards Antony that bordered on the maternal. 

There is a troopship escorted by two frigates and a Stinger, reported her Familiar. There is also a high probability that frigates will carry complements of troops too. 

The troopship will likely be the lightest armed, Antony thought, Luminosity relaying his messages to everyone in the group. We focus on the frigates and Stinger first, then take out the troopship.

The warships are probably there for that purpose, as a screening force in case it meets us, the third one in their group, a woman named Tsai, thought. She was a grizzled veteran with unexpected sparks of dry humor that lightened up the occasionally contentious strategy meetings. If we all engage the escorts, the troopship will take the opportunity to land.

Then we need to divide our attentions accordingly, Hadrian thought. Part of our group needs to engage the frigates and the Stinger while someone take out the troopship. 

Tsai and I will, Ho told them. We’re the most experienced pilots, and the Stinger will have some bite even without our firepower. You two take out the troopship. 

Hadrian, watch my back, Antony told him. Hadrian caught only a flash of his emotions. But he knew that Antony was aware of how uncomfortable Hadrian was with firing at other ships, even enemies. 

My analysis predicts that we will be coming upon the flotilla in three – two –

They dropped upon the Protectorate forces, stats updating with a speed that hurt Hadrian’s head. 

Tsai and Ho wasted no time, firing their missiles at the unsuspecting frigates.

One hit, and a flash as a frigate vanished in a silent explosion. Hadrian gritted his teeth as he raised his mental barriers, the death-screams muffled as he deafened his mind as much as he could -- 

The other missile was not so lucky, as the remaining frigate pulverized it with a blast from its shield-guns. Then it launched its own, the projectile shooting towards Ho like a deathly streak of light –

And was destroyed by her own shield-gun. 

Hadrian’s chest eased a bit. She was still alive.

But they had lost the edge of surprise. 

As Tsai and Ho focused on the remaining frigate, Hadrian searched for Antony, chasing after him. True to Tsai’s prediction, the troopship had pulled ahead when they engaged the frigates, intent on landing onto the Orbital. 

It flew into Antony’s trap. 

He had waited for them, coming up from beneath, firing his beamers first to disable the shield-guns that protected the troopship. They broke off, falling away as detritus in space. Hadrian bit his lip as dread permeated his mind – the crew and passengers knew what was wrong, mingled with a frustration that they could do nothing against their fate –

Then Hadrian felt horror from his own mind. The Stinger came, Incandescence projecting it on a course straight for Antony –

There was no time to warn him. Hadrian fired, the missile smashing towards the Stinger –

Caught with a shield-gun. The impact was close enough that heat pressed against Hadrian’s cheek as the ship’s armor absorbed the radioactive burst.

There was a hate that burned even more than the detonation. The Stinger appeared again, so rapidly that it barely registered on Incandescence’s sensors before it fired its own missile –

Destroyed by Incandescence’s shield-gun. 

But in that instance, the Stinger aimed its beamers at Antony. A radiant jet of light shot out, its trajectory visible to the naked eye as it aimed to cut Antony’s ship in half.

Bile rose in Hadrian’s throat. He was no longer aware where the enemy pilot’s anger ended and his own began. All Hadrian could think of was how to stop it from hitting Antony –

Engaging in accelerated stealth mode, Incandescence thought.

What the hell? Hadrian was pressed back into his seat as the fighter accelerated, data flooding his mind as well as confusion from the Stinger. It had disappeared off the Stinger’s displays – where was the other Familiar –

Launching missile to stop beamer, Incandescence thought. 

Shock replaced puzzlement as the missile met the jet of light in a brilliance that blinded all three of them: Hadrian, Antony, the enemy pilot.

There was a mess of reactions in his head; Hadrian was not even sure what which were his, or even what had happened. But his heart pounded – he couldn’t let Antony get hurt – he had to protect him –

Hadrian fired his missile at the Stinger.

Incandescence was right: the Stinger’s firepower was no match for a Familiar ship. Its generator could not muster up enough energy to power its shield-gun in time and it was out of missiles. The impotent fury from its pilot scorched Hadrian –

Then chilled with the finality of death.

In that moment Antony blasted the troopship out of space. Hadrian went rigid as their deaths cut through Hadrian.

Blocking mental links, Incandescence thought. 

No, Hadrian though. Can’t be cut off. Need to report back in.

You’ve received enough psychic shocks that staying in a mental link would cause neurological damage, Incandescence informed him. Five seconds. 

Hadrian’s mind reeled as he fought to regain control over himself. An eternity, then –

Hadrian, say something! Antony’s voice rang in his head, almost as the man was shouting in his ear.

Present, Hadrian replied, exhausted but recovered enough to form a coherent thought. I’m here. 

Antony’s relief washed over both of them. 

Thanks, he told Hadrian. For having my back. 

I won’t let anyone hurt you, Hadrian told Antony fiercely.   
How did you do that, though?

Do what? Hadrian wasn’t aware that anything special had happened. Brutal, yes. Almost beyond his capability to handle, yes. But out of the ordinary? No.

You disappeared off of Luminosity’s sensors when you aimed that missile at the beamer, Antony thought. The missile didn’t appear either until impact.

Then Hadrian remembered what Incandescence said and the results of her preflight check. 

Does it have something to do with this ‘accelerated stealth mode’? Hadrian asked Incandescence. 

Affirmative, answered Incandescence. Something about the state of your mind in combat allowed me to enter that mode, which hid the ship and the missiles from all sensors. 

Hadrian began to understand why Incandescence had a third less armaments and a thicker hull. It was for the cloaking device and its generator. Hadrian saw the ship’s figures flickering; just that brief use had consumed enormous energy. 

Something stirred in his memory ... the comet drop that attacked them during the races. Gods, that seemed so long ago. 

You think that and your cloaking tech are linked? Antony asked. 

It makes sense, doesn’t it? Hadrian answered. How the security missed a comet. Incandescence, is that possible to outfit a comet with such a device? 

It is, Incandescence informed them. I can think of several ways, based on what I just did. Though I would say that it isn’t an efficient use of resources, energy or cost wise.

Then it sounds exactly like something the Protectorate would do, Hadrian thought. 

Antony laughed, its ring brittle in Hadrian’s head. 

What happened? Tsai asked as she and Ho reentered their mental link. 

Hadrian destroyed a Stinger and found out his ship has Old Dynasty cloaking tech, Antony told them. 

That’s unexpected, Tsai thought, without missing a beat. We can use that to our advantage.

The bad news: likely the Protectorate does too, and Hadrian isn’t exactly sure how to activate it, Antony told them. 

Hadrian was too distant from Tsai, but he still caught a hint of her disappointment. 

I can still enter into the accelerated stealth mode, Incandescence reported. It’s linked to your mental agitation and the level is still sufficiently high enough that it’s enabled. 

Even if that’s true, so what? How will we be able to stop others from using it? Ho’s question was the one everyone was asking, whether openly or not. 

“Ach.” Hadrian rubbed his head. Sustained telepathic conversations gave him a migraine. It was effective but exhausting; the whole exchange seemed much longer, but it had only taken the span of a few seconds.

Out loud, he asked Incandescence: “What are the possibility of using the cloaking device to hide a jump so we can get close to a battleliner?”

There was silence from Incandescence. Then: “I think it’s foolhardy. But perhaps your human mind sees the potential in this plan that I don’t. There’s so many factors that can go wrong, though, and there’s no need to risk your life in such a foolhardy manner.”

She was right. But as Hadrian stared out his window, trying to think, fear closed in on him, drowning him in open waves of desperation and fatigue, the fighting spirit ground to dust beneath the merciless jackboots of the Protectorate military –

It wasn’t only his fear. It came from all around, from Ho and Tsai and even Antony. Hadrian took in the metallic shimmer of the other ships, against the background of the stars. The Orbital flickered in the distance, the spherical beauty of it almost enhanced by the glisten of lights from the firing cannons. 

If he could make a difference, he should. If it were in his power to end this carnage, then he should. He had no excuses to refrain from pursuing this opportunity to end this. 

“How is the situation?” he asked Incandescence, trying to buy more time. 

“Two of the battleliners have been neutralized,” Incandescence reported, “but losses are severe. Half of our frigates and a third of the Familiars have been destroyed.”

That was thousands or even hundreds of thousands of men. Hadrian pushed away the pressure in his chest as Incandescence continued. 

“There are two remaining, and they are regrouping. I detect a transmission from what appears to be the flagship ordering all remaining frigates to return and guard the battleliners’ approach for continuing bombardment. I think their intent is to destroy the remaining ground defenses so that the defenders in space have no base for replenishment.”  
It was devilishly simple. Most of the Orbital’s forces were merchant freighters or shuttles hastily armed, with a few frigates and the remainder Familiar fighters. With the exception of Familiars, none of them could survive in space by themselves. With limited supplies and no jump drives, they’d be stranded, easy pickings.

The response to this plan was just as simple.

Reenter connection, Hadrian thought. He came back into the tail end of what appeared to be an argument. 

I was just telling them you’ve more than proven yourself and that you should return to the Orbital, Antony told him. You’re already at your limit; you should go back.

Back to what, Hadrian thought bitterly. Back to a burning wreck? No, I’m staying with you.

Antony’s frustration pulsed too strongly to form into coherent thoughts.

I have a plan, Hadrian continued doggedly. He would engage the cloaking mode while he still could, jump space close enough to the battleliner to launch a missile that would puncture its armor and destroy it. The rest would serve as decoys, drawing away the escorting forces – the Stingers and frigates – so that Hadrian would have a clear shot.

Absolutely no! Antony almost broke their mental link with the strength of his objection. You’re committing suicide. Even if the battleliner’s cannons don’t blow you to pieces, you’ll be destroyed by the space-time disruption from jumping space so close to another object. 

It’s theoretically possible to do what he’s suggesting, Ho thought. And using the cloaking will eliminate the need to jump so close as to bypass the battleliner’s defenses. It might be the least risky option we have. 

I concur, Tsai added. We’ll provide cover and draw the escorts away. I don’t think we have another other choice. We’re desperate.

Silence from Antony’s end. They held their breaths, waiting. Finally –

Alright. But get out there as soon as you launch your missile. Aim for the propulsion or the hangar; they’ll be the weakest armored. Not the bridge – that’s the most heavily protected. Antony’s advice came in a torrent, and Hadrian almost laughed. He could tell Antony was about to offer to take Hadrian’s place himself, but he knew the three of them would never accept it. 

They set off, Hadrian trying to project a confidence he did not have, and Antony tensed with worry.

Preparing to jump, Incandescence reported. 

Tendons stood out on his arm. The actual firing would be done by the ship. Only Incandescence’s computer brain capable of coordinating the relativistic speed of jumping space with the missile launch. Even so, Hadrian had only milliseconds to adjust to the change, and he steeled himself for the inevitable bloodbath.

He blinked. The battleliner came into view, a hideous monster in its enormity. He saw one of the cannon’s opening, a gaping maw that could swallow his ship whole with room for more.

He tried to still his terror as the missile rocketed out. No one had noticed his ship yet, dead to the sensors onboard the colossus and the escorts too distracted by Antony and the others engaging them in battle. Hadrian locked his mental doors tight, to prevent the death cries overwhelming his mind.

He tasted blood as he bit his lip, attempted to stay upright at the tsunami of fear and panic engulfing, then washing out into nothingness. There was no spectacular effects, no visual shows with color flashing, nothing dramatic that indicated any change except the lights on the battleliner going dark. 

It was eerie in its own way, a giant teeming with life suddenly shutting down, the missile hitting the generators and disrupting the power system. The first to go was the communications system, then the sensors and the weapons. Finally – the life support. 

Hadrian flew away, haunted at what he had just done. There would be no glorious death for them, only a slow gasp for the crew as their lives faded slowly into nothing. It was a horrible way to die, and Hadrian could not shake the sense that he had just lost something, a piece of himself, from the actions he took today.

You protected all those people on the Orbital, Incandescence told him. Antony and Ho and Tsai and the millions remaining still on the Orbital. You might not feel it, but you’re a hero.

I definitely don’t feel like one, Hadrian thought. Just someone who’s much too tired to do anything more.

If you hang in there, I’ll be able to jump back near the Orbital. 

No, Hadrian thought. There’s still one more battleliner. And Antony needs me. They all need me.

You’re at your limit, Incandescence thought. You’re on the edge of physical collapse and you’re facing brain damage if you reenter the telepathic link with the others. You’re no use to them right now. You’ll only be a burden. 

Stung by the harsh words, Hadrian started to retort. But he stopped. Incandescence was right. He would be – he couldn’t be of use to anything in his current state. His head was fuzzy, and every limb was lethargic.

He let out a breath. Alright. 

If Incandescence felt triumphant at Hadrian’s agreement, she didn’t show it. 

I’m informing the team and they’ve approved. And I can’t maintain the cloaking, Incandescence reported. We have no more power for any combat systems if we’re to jump now. 

Understood, Hadrian thought. 

There was a whirl from Incandescence greenlighting the jump. It was ready.

Hadrian tried to relax, that soon he could be back in his bed with the knowledge that danger had passed for now, that they had survived another day. They had taken gruesome losses, but they had survived against all odds. 

Then there was a shuddering impact as something collided against his ship. He jerked, held back by the safety restraints that snapped into place and banged his head against his seat. 

Enemies incoming, Incandescence thought.

They had a choice – either fight or flight. Beeping from the panel indicated that enemies were coming faster than he could count – Stingers and frigates surrounded him on all sides. 

Launch missile, Hadrian thought. He would take the lot of them with him.

Energy levels depleted. Cannot power launching system.

Hadrian wanted to pound something. But his hands were stuck in the sockets still. What can we do? he asked Incandescence.

Incandescence did not respond as a new wave hit the ship, shaking it like a leaf in a storm. Hadrian swallowed back the bile that burned the back of his throat.

Blackness was closing in on him, even as he fought to stay alert. It seemed like air was slipping from his lungs as he faded from consciousness.

~~

Hadrian, shoved unceremoniously on his knees, looked coldly back at the man standing before him. It was Wang Yibiao.

“Hello again,” the man said. He had an unpleasant smile on his face.

Hadrian was not sure what happened after he lost awareness. He had no idea how he ended from the isolated safety of his ship to this antiseptic white room. The light seemed to slide off the walls as Hadrian tried desperately to recall the events leading to this.

Even as his head ached, he realized that his hands were cuffed behind him, bound tight with restraints that forced his shoulders painfully back. 

“You seem confused,” Wang said. “But then, this is no way for me to treat a guest. Private, why don’t you bring Master Lee here to a seat?”

Hadrian was hauled into a chair by a man with a grip so iron it was almost inhuman. The soldier must have enhancements to augment his strength. 

Hadrian scrutinized the man. Clad head to toe in body armor, the plates resembling that of a mythical knight from the distant past, the man looked more machine than human. 

In fact, there was something odd about him. Hadrian’s head ached too much to pinpoint the exact source of that strangeness.

“Do you want any refreshments?” Wang asked, breaking Hadrian out of his thoughts. Hadrian stemmed his urge to rush at the man. Hadrian remembered what the man did, how Wang had tortured that professor on the Orbital. Wang had affected the same genial manner back then, too. No one was fooled. 

He stilled his mind as he sought answers. His recollection came back – how after he had launched the missile at the battleliner, his ship had been ensnared by a Disabler beam and a trap net, siphoning what little power remaining as a squad of frigates hauled the starfighter away.

Hadrian searched his mind for the link with Incandescence. Nothing. There was a cavity where she usually resided, an awning hole that buffeted Hadrian with its loneliness. 

Wang watched him with amusement. “You’re trying to search for your Familiar, aren’t you? I’ve studied you people long enough to recognize that look.” There was a cold, matter-of-factly way he said that statement which made every cell in Hadrian cringe. Wang had not simply observed those responses – he had been the one to induce the situation for them.

He had performed human-experiments on the psions.

Wang smiled, recognizing that Hadrian had come to that understanding. “It’s all for science,” he said, in a false tone of reassurance. “I’m sure you’ll be interested to find out as much about your subspecies of humanity as much as I am. Well, maybe not you personally; I don’t think you’ll be around long enough for me to publish the results. But others like you – I’m sure they will see the value in what I do here.”

Hadrian made no reply. He was still trying to reach Incandescence. The idea of something happening to her filled him with more anguish than fear of anything that could happen to him. He had let her down. If only he had not insisted on such an insane and rash plan, if only he had been more careful in searching the surrounding areas … his overconfidence was what led to this.

“I am also curious to see how you did that,” Wang continued. “That cloaking tech is highly advanced, even for a Familiar. We managed to reverse engineer that from a few of the abandoned spaceships dating back to the Old Dynasty, though we haven’t perfected it yet.” His gaze glittered. “That was why we were searching for the Old Dynasty star fortress. But I suppose you found it, didn’t you? That’s how you came in possession of your Familiar.”

Hadrian didn’t answer. 

“We’ll get the answer out of you one way or another,” Wang said. “Whether willingly or not. It doesn’t matter.”

He tapped a button on his wrist device. 

Pain! It jolted through Hadrian, left him gasping, clutching at each inhale as if it were a lifeline that could lift him from this abyss. 

“We’ve injected you with nanobots that will activate whenever I press this,” Wang said, tapping his wrist. “It’ll release a chemical that can simulate any sensation we want. Right now, it’s pain.”

Hadrian couldn’t say anything even if he tried. Whatever that was, it had left his chest heaving, unable to take in anything but the tiniest slips of air. His muscles quivered. 

“I suppose I should say I’m doing this as payback for what you did to that battleliner,” Wang said. “But truth be told, I don’t really care. Their deaths were regrettable, but they were only androids after all.”

Hadrian jerked at that. What did that mean? He had felt the deaths of the crew onboard as their oxygen cut off. An androidwouldn’t show like that in his mind. 

Wang smiled at Hadrian’s confusion. “Yes, there were some humans aboard. The commanding officers. Some I even liked. But the rest of the crew were androids, made sentient by the Old Dynasty tech we’ve excavated. How did you think we’ve managed to crew four battliners with such speed?” He paused. “I’m not sure why I’m sharing all of this. But you won’t be repeating this to anyone, would you?” He pressed the button again.

Even though Hadrian had been preparing for it, the flare tormenting every nerve, every fiber caused him to almost vomit. He groped for consciousness as he approached the edge of darkness. 

Mercifully, the burning receded. 

“It’s no good if you pass out on me,” Wang frowned. “But you see now that it’s in your best interest to cooperate, don’t you?”

Hadrian tried to disassociate himself from his body, experience it as though he were only a stranger visiting a foreign structure. The impressions blurred, the spasms in his body contrasting with the plush seating of the chair he was in. His vision went out of focus, as white spots dotted the sides.

He could hear muttering from Wang. Evidently, his body was being scanned and examined. He expected as much – from Wang’s attitude, they wanted to study him as a specimen as much as they wanted information from him.

No amount of secrets Hadrian could betray could save him from this fate. It was a cruel trick played by Wang, pretending that he could stop the pain if Hadrian divulged anything. 

He came to his senses as Wang tapped another button. 

“Well?” Wang was expectant. “I’ve shown you what happens if you defy me. I can also simulate pleasure beyond belief if you cooperate. I can make you feel anything you want.”

“Go to hell.” Hadrian barely had time to form those words. This time, Wang backhanded him. His eyes were dark with suppressed fury. 

Hadrian’s cheek stung as he glared back. His psionic abilities were coming back again – there was a small warmth at the back of his mind again, though it was barely there, dwarfed by the rage from Wang that a prisoner in his power would dare to defy him thus. 

It still felt wrong. His thoughts were strangely muted, not from the torture, but from something else. 

I can knock you out so you don’t experience the pain, Incandescence said.

Hadrian almost jumped with relief at her voice in his head. She wasn’t destroyed. She was still here.

Yes. They have technicians still trying to scan and dissect me, but so far their attempts have failed. Despite the situation they were in, Incandescence still had a smug tone to her voice. 

“You’re feeling the pain again, aren’t you?” Wang’s unctuous voice slid into his ears. “It did plateau a bit, but we’ve upped the intensity. You’re a sturdy little thing, aren’t you?” His lips curved. “If you’re still in one piece after all this, I might keep you for myself.” His finger stroked Hadrian’s cheek. Hadrian snapped his teeth, more to prevent the touch than any real attempt to bite. 

Wang’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should have you restrained. I thought the pain would have been enough but it clearly isn’t.”

Hadrian tried to focus on his link with Incandescence as pain barreled into him. 

He feared death as much as anyone, but this was excruciating. He became aware of an awful noise that he almost didn’t recognize as his own screams. 

Can you turn off my pain receptors? Hadrian asked. Or turn off my brain functions? 

There was a pause. Then:

I can, Incandescence said. But that means death. Especially since you are in a hostile environment and you already suffered some brain damage. 

I don’t care! Knock me out! Do whatever you have! A mental sob shook him as he grunted at the renewed torture. 

Understood….

The sound faded, and the world slipped.

Hadrian found himself strapped down, but to the same chair. Nothing seemed to have changed except his body’s position. Everything seemed sharper somehow, his sight more vivid, his hearing keener – and he felt the pain lingering in his body as needles and knives, tearing him apart.

Incandescence, what the hell? 

Integrating, Incandescence said.

Hadrian swallowed. His thought processes were odd, and it was like he was viewing the world through lenses with a film of dust just now wiped away. He recognized the wet smell of his own sweat soaking through his jumpsuit, going beyond the ability of the fabric to absorb. 

His entire body twinged with unbearable hyperawareness, aching at the slightest caress of air on his skin. There was a consternated hum as Wang conferred with someone else in the room.

His tongue was thick in his mouth and his throat was raw. Gods, how much had he been screaming? He was much too alert, much too functional. Was this Wang’s doing? Heighten his sensitivity and susceptibility to the torment?

His hands scrabbled at the soft leather arm of the chair. 

“Oh.” The quiet discussion stopped. “You’re awake again.”

Wang sounded extraordinarily pleased. Hadrian didn’t have to guess why; Wang’s sadistic pleasure from inflicting suffering hurt Hadrian almost as much as whatever cocktail of drugs and nanobots he had slipped into Hadrian’s bloodstream. 

Integration complete, Incandescence said. I can attempt to disrupt the signals from Wang’s device to the nanobots in your bloodstream so that they don’t affect you anymore. 

Apparently whatever Incandescence had been doing while Hadrian had been knocked out enhanced her abilities. He was certain she couldn’t do that before. 

There were aspects of my programming that had been inaccessible when we Bonded, Incandescence said. For example, the ability to enter accelerated stealth mode and use the cloaking device. I’m not exactly sure why, but the level of pain you experienced changed your neurological structures and mine so that these programs became unlocked. 

Hadrian would have given these newfound abilities back if it meant he didn’t have to suffer anymore. 

I too, Incandescence said sadly. I feel your pain and the extensive damage on your body it’s done. But I can try to stop it now. 

Do it. 

There was a flicker — and the room plunged into darkness. 

There was a scuffle across the room as someone hit something with a nasty-sounding crash. 

“You idiot,” hissed Wang. “Be more careful. And what the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know, sir, I’m not sure. All the systems just went haywire.”

“All of them?”

“I’m trying to resolve the issue right now.” Hadrian heard frantic tapping on a handheld. 

Incandescence, what happened?

I downloaded a virus from one of your files into the battleliner’s system, Incandescence said. I thought it might help disrupt the nanobots in you. It also has the effect of disabling the android crew that man this ship. 

Can you explain that? Hadrian still didn’t understand, but now that his psionic power surged through him, he was aware of the odd blankness that permeated around him. 

They’re essentially drones in forma bodies, Incandescence said. In this case, they form the majority of the crew on board. They’re much like the sentries at the space fortress where you found me, though these are much more unstable. They’re basically bodies with one singular computer programming, even less advanced than your handheld. 

It sickened Hadrian to hear that. Something about that upset his sense of righteousness. But an even more appalling idea came to him. 

Can they be used for combat? Hadrian asked. Like the sentries on the fortress.

Not these, Incandescence said. These lack the stability; in a complex combat situation, their senses will overwhelm them and they will be unable to perform. She paused. However, they probably will be sufficient as cannon fodder to tie down any opponent. 

“You!” There was a flurry of movement and Hadrian grunted. Wang had punched him in the stomach. “You’re doing this!”

No matter how Hadrian tried to ignore it, his body was on fire. Fresh and sharp pain mixed with the dull ache of strained muscles. He was at the edge of collapse. Only the pride in him forced him to hold on. 

You need to, Incandescence thought.

Why? Hadrian’s hands were too tightly secured to do anything. Even if he could slip out of them, the virus Incandescence had unleashed into the battleliner’s system would be flushed out before he could make his way off. This only bought him time.

Not even, as Wang resorted to using his fists over technology. Weak and disoriented, Hadrian could no more fight back than he could free his arms out of the cuffs. His wrists were sore where they bit into his skin, and his shoulders were stiff from being pulled back for so long. 

He was ashamed of the tight knot of fear forming in the pit of his stomach, even more than the helplessness of his position. He was going to die here, either broken in body or broken in spirit.

No. You won’t.

This new thought washed over him, wrapping him in warmth. It banished the cold infiltrating the body.

Antony?

Hadrian heard muffle cries and the unmistakable sounds of lazeblasters firing. Alarms rang as the light went back on – they had managed to expel the virus from the ship’s system.

Wang stood over him, his mask of geniality gone, his face full of unhinged rage and hatred. His goal was obvious; even without being a psion, Hadrian could tell Wang was going to make Hadrian pay for humiliating him.

Hold on. The thought glowed like sunshine. Hadrian wanted to cup it in his hand and never let go. He had no idea what happened, whether his overloaded mind had created an impression of his happiest memories or if it invented some horrible way to torment himself.

No. It’s me. Where are you?

Hadrian could only send an image of the room – white walls, antiseptic and devoid of humanity – as Wang went back to his chair, examining his wrist device. He was going to make it hurt again, going to excruciate him –

Something hit Wang with enough force; he flew through the room and hit the wall. His eyes glazed as he froze.

Antony turned to Hadrian, his face etched with cold fury, a rougher-hewn version of his fine features looking away from Wang. Antony’s face filled with distress and tenderness as he took in the sight of Hadrian.

Hadrian caught a flash of what Antony saw: bruised, battered, spots already purpling on his face and a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Antony asked, his voice gentle, controlled, as though a word more would be the slippage before a flood and his walls would collapse.

Hadrian struggled to pull himself up. “How are you here? What the hell are you doing?”

“That isn’t how you should be greeting your rescuers, little brother,” a disapproving voice said.

“Xander!” Hadrian whipped his head so fast his vision spun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’re certainly not here for a stroll and a chat with that one over there.” Xander indicated Wang’s unconscious form with disgust. “What do you think we’re doing? Rescuing you. Can you walk without assistance?”

Hadrian nodded as Antony released the lock on his restraints. They came free with a satisfying rush of blood. 

Hadrian rubbed his arms, feeling the grooves where the cuffs had cut into his skin. His whole body wobbled at the movement. That burst of consciousness had all but disappeared, and his head spun. Anger and worry radiated off of Antony and even Xander’s upset leaked from his mental barriers. He had never seen his brother like this before. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Our commandos secured the main hangar for now and our Familiars are waiting there, guarding the entrance against any escorts attempting to land from space. We need to hurry; they can’t hold the frigates and Stingers off forever. We don’t have complete control of the ship and the soldiers will soon regain it. We need to get off this ship.” Xander tapped his wristcomm. “Ten minutes. That’s the maximum we have.”

“What about my Familiar?” 

“She’s in the main hangar. We have her secured.” A smile broke onto Xander’s face. It was different from the usual smirk that Hadrian usually saw. “Congratulations. She’s a beauty. Antony tells me she’s special, too.”

Hadrian’s face softened and the pain momentarily banished as he thought of her. “She is.” An idea hit him. “I might be able to buy you more time. She’s connected to the ship’s mainframe; if we can unleash another virus into it, it might work.”

“The chaos onboard when we landed, that was you, wasn’t it?” Xander asked.

“More Incandescence than me,” Hadrian said as he reached out to her. You hear that, he asked silently. Can you do it again?

Uploading, she thought. There was a flick and the lights dimmed. 

I couldn’t use the virus from earlier but this one should deactivate all the sensors onboard, she informed him. 

Thanks, Hadrian told her. For everything.

Just hurry up and get us out of here.

“The sensors should be deactivated,” Hadrian told them. He used Antony’s proffered arm to pull himself upright. “But we need to run.”

They set off, their boots pounding the plastisteel floor in heavy thuds. 

Hadrian moved strangely. Despite his weary soreness, he felt light, floating. He knew that the ship’s artificial gravity would not exert as much force on his body as a real planet or even a space station would, but he was still too light. He could not seem to get his footing properly, his feet almost slipping as they ran. 

Xander noticed. 

“What’s happening to you?” he asked with a frown. “If you can’t walk, you don’t need to put up a front for us. You should’ve let us know so one of us can carry you instead of tripping and slowing us down.”

Hadrian sensed Antony about to snap at his brother, hurried in. “I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’s like I can’t adjust to the ship’s gravity.”

“That’s odd.” Antony’s brows creased. “Your bio-enhanced systems should have adjusted you to it. Even if you were only on board for a few hours.”

“Has it really been that long?” Hadrian tried to crack a smile. Neither Antony nor his brother even remotely reacted.

“You brought the scanner, right?” his brother asked Antony. “Scan him.”

“Really, you don’t need to do that. I’m perfectly fine,” Hadrian said, as Antony waved the scanner over his body. Antony’s face grew grave, and Hadrian could hear the thoughts that bounced through Antony’s mind –

His bio-enhancements were destroyed – some sort of corrosive agent in his bloodstream – it’s gone forever – he doesn’t know how to tell Hadrian that –

“I never really liked them anyways,” Hadrian said, his tone light. His insides were hollow, an emotion that had nothing to do with the ship’s lack of gravity. “It’s not a big deal. So what? I’ll probably just need some physiotherapy or extra exercise.” 

Xander was less attuned to Hadrian’s mind. “What’s wrong? What is wrong with my brother?”

“It seems all my bio-enhancements were damaged by Wang,” Hadrian said. He tried not to wince at his own words. They threw the reality of what happened to him into stark relief. Gone – destroyed – damaged. 

Antony balled up his fist, made to stride back to where they were running from. “I’ll kill him. I’m going to rip his head from his body –”

“No!” Hadrian grabbed Antony’s arm. It was obvious now, the way he was unable to even maintain his grip as Antony freed it with what appeared to be enough speed that Hadrian’s fingers touched air. 

He stared at his hands. He was basically crippled.

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Alright. Antony, you will not do anything so stupid. Carry my brother to his ship. And Hadrian,” Xander let out a breath. “We’ll be able to fix this. But right now, we need to get out of here. This doesn’t stop you from piloting, does it?”

Hadrian shook his head. 

Without even so much as a warning, Antony grabbed and lifted Hadrian in a fireman’s lift. Shouts echoed and alarms blared. It seemed the small amount of time the virus bought them had ended.

They ran, Hadrian’s fingers latching onto Antony’s robes as they hurtled to the hangar.

They wasted no time, Antony dumping Hadrian into Incandescence’s own cockpit before leaping into his own. 

Ready? Incandescence asked as the socked fitted around Hadrian’s hand. The familiar preflight protocols flicked through his mind. He heard the propulsion jets thunder.

They accelerated, Hadrian pushed back into his seat, guns blazing. 

The pell-mell battle outside appeared as some hallucinogenic light show. Ships jousted with beams of lasers, missiles streaked past like jagged lightning, and flashes of radiation lit against the velvet black.

And amongst it all, Hadrian saw a battleliner, huge, even larger than the one he had just escaped, looming. 

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning in own fear, in a hopelessness that swamped out all else with a suffocating ferocity that swelled within – 

Hadrian! Relax! It’s friendly. Antony’s thought rang in his mind.  
… Friendly? 

Yes. It’s your father’s. He sent it. They’re reinforcements. We’re taking you onboard for treatment right now. 

Now that he was aware of it, Hadrian did notice that the numbers seemed to favor their side. There were more ships on his mindscape in the blue signifier of friendly forces than the red dots that were the Protectorate. And now that he could focus, he sensed an all too familiar presence. 

His father was on board that battleliner. 

Hadrian could have crumpled from the waves of emotions that rocked through him. He was safe – he was free of the agony and reunited with Antony and his brother. 

And his father.

~~

A second-rate battleliner was a small spacefaring city, self-contained with all the facilities and amenities its crew could need. Often used as a flagship in distant star sectors, the ship had everything from rudimentary dockyards for damaged escorts to an entire level dedicated to the medical bay.

It was here that Hadrian found himself, being prodded and poked by the medic while Antony hovered.

Hadrian supposed he should be grateful that Xander had more urgent business than watch his little brother being told to stay still. 

He still could not wrap his head around the idea that they had a battleliner. Hadrian thought he would have heard whispers about it or seen hints when he trawled the Clanship web, but he had not. Evidently his father had guarded this secret so well that his son didn’t even know. 

Well, one of his sons. Xander did. Hadrian had wanted to question him but Xander had been pulled aside by an aide when Hadrian had opened his mouth to ask.

Hadrian supposed it could wait. He had bigger concerns. 

“You don’t have to keep hovering, you know,” Hadrian told Antony when Hadrian couldn’t get rid of the medic. “I’m not going to melt into the bed.”

Antony’s expression remained unmoved. “I’m not leaving until I know that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” Hadrian didn’t bother making a show of it. If he even tried, he would probably fall off the bed and cause another round of clucking. Instead, he grinned gamely at Antony. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Antony’s face softened and the medic behind him chuckled.

“That’s what my girlfriend says when she wants me to stop fussing,” the medic told them, walking over with an air-syringe. Then he frowned at Hadrian. “But you have suffered extensive damage: your organs are scarred and you have extensive internal bruising. You also have tissue and nerve injuries from the bots in your system. We need to flush them out, but we can’t do that if you’re awake.”

“And what about my bio-augmentation system?” Hadrian asked, bracing himself. 

The medic’s face fell and Antony’s tightened. 

“They’re gone,” the medic said. “Destroyed. They were corroded by the bots when it released the nerve toxin inside your system. We can investigate further, but from the extent of my knowledge, we don’t have the ability to restore it. 

“His isn’t even that extensive,” Antony said. He walked around, agitated. “You’re telling me that you can’t even put back a basic system into his body?”

The medic spoke gently. “Because of what happened, Master Lee’s body developed a toxic reaction to any kind of foreign system we might have been able to put in, even the most basic kind.”

That was it. Hadrian had been wrestling with the idea of additional implants – it was the norm, for every psion to receive the increased strength and speed that came with them, especially after Bonding with a Familiar. But Hadrian didn’t want to be a synthetic cyborg. He had no idea what it would mean, for him to be so wired and prosthetic. 

But now the choice had been made for him. 

He stared at the wall, his hands flexing. Antony came next to him, gently prying them apart. Hadrian hadn’t realized his nails had gouged into his palms. Hadrina looked at the medic. 

“Anything else?”

“You’ll likely feel pain every so often,” he said. There was a knock at the door and a young man came in to hand him a report. “Ah. Thank you, Dr. Tsang.”

The other man bowed and withdrew, but not without taking a curious glance at Hadrian and Antony.   
Hadrian breathed out. He needed to accept the unchangeable truth of the situation. Besides, it wouldn’t be an insurmountable obstacle – he had lived with less augmentation than most, and its presence or lack of had not impacted his life immensely. He lifted one arm gingerly. It took more effort to control it from flailing and smacking Antony in the face than it did to raise it. 

“Other than that, it appears you are fine, Master Lee,” the medic continued, peering at the chart that was just handed in. He swiped his finger, and Hadrian saw the blur of characters slide pass. “In fact, your brain is remarkably undamaged. From our tests, it appears you’ve gained a new sensitivity that goes beyond your previous levels.”

Hadrian could not decide if that was a blessing or a curse. It meant, of course, that he could detect with better precision other people’s moods and impressions, but it also increased his vulnerability. Hadrian wonder what it was like to not be a psion, to not be so open and naked. 

He stayed silent, only making small gestures when warranted as the medic rattled off facts about his health. Finally, when he was finished and about to inject him with the anesthetic, Hadrian stopped him with a gesture.

“I’d like to wait a bit, please.”

The medic looked hesitant. 

“It doesn’t matter if they’re in my system for a few more minutes, does it?” Hadrian asked. “I just want to talk with Antony alone for a bit.”

Hadrian saw from the corner of his eye Antony giving a small nod to the medic. 

“Very well,” the medic said. “Ten minutes.”

He left and closed the door securely behind him. The lock clicked. 

Antony looked at Hadrian. “What is it?”

Hadrian took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. For — for getting me out of that place.” His voice caught. “If you hadn’t, I —"

Antony swept him into his arms and held him tight. 

Hadrian stiffened, then let go, falling into that unconditionally offered safety. 

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice muffled against Antony’s chest. Here he could finally allow himself to surrender; his mental doors not so much dropped as melted, fading into nothing. 

No rage, no pain buffeted his mind; only affection and love, shining through a cool exterior that disguised how passionately Antony felt. A vivid picture of himself came into Hadrian’s mind: so soft, but under a deceptive frailty, a fierce toughness like no other he knew. 

Hadrian laughed. He was exhausted. “I’m not that tough. Just stubborn and too used to getting what I want.”

Antony quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were trying to be more careful about guarding our mind better.” There was relief that Hadrian was alright, a surprised delight that Hadrian could still joke, and his own attraction to Hadrian that heated the pit of his belly. 

In response, Hadrian kissed him, savoring Antony’s lips like ambrosia, his hands rummaging through Antony with an urgency to remind himself that Antony was there, solid, a bulwark against the ghosts of his memories. They faded as Hadrian explored the potency of his masculinity, touching everywhere he could.

“The medic will come back any moment,” Antony murmured as his body responded, muscles flowing at the soft pressures. 

“Just hold me then.”

So Antony and Hadrian held each other, two people caught in a maelstrom of events. 

~~

Hadrian thought he would be feeling better, with all the medication and the healer cells they injected him with, but he was wrong. Nothing could ease the strain of sitting in on a strategy meeting with his father and the Lee’s top advisors. 

He didn’t need his psionic abilities to know they watched him curiously even as they pretended to listen to his father expound on the need to regain the initiative.

Hadrian was not even sure why he was here. Ordinarily, such a high-level conference would exclude him, and he had been much happier for it. 

The meeting room on board the battleliner was at least more traditional compared to the Situation Room of the Orbital. A small projection of the Fu system hung over the table, with the Lee’s battle group and the spherical space station clearly pinpointed. 

He was still amazed at the fact that they had a battleliner. A second-rate, no less, brimming with just under a thousand cannons. It dominated the four enemy capital ships that had besieged the Orbital; Hadrian could see those on the display too, their wrecks cordoned off by frigates as boarding parties searched them for any survivals and salvageable material.  
Hadrian’s family had more than one battleliner, it turned out. Somehow, in secret, his father had built a fleet of ten: one second-rate and nine third-rates, in addition to the numerous frigates and smaller escorts Hadrian did know about.

It must have been years in the making. The expenses and planning, not to mention the secrecy – it all pointed a concerted effort by his father to preempt the Protectorate. Building and manning these was an enormous effort. Other Clans also contributed to the flotilla; Hadrian saw the insignia of the Liangs and the Aos on some of the uniforms.

He was still stung that his father had not seen fit to confide in him, though Hadrian supposed he had to be grateful for that. If he had let it slip during Wang’s questioning ….

Hadrian cleared his head of the unwanted thoughts. Next to him, Antony discreetly slipped his hand onto Hadrian’s thigh, a reassuring pressure. 

“The war is just beginning,” his father said, staring at the star map. “We have secured this system so far, as well as the volumes of space where the Clanships are located. But we can’t just become complacent. The Protectorate will attack again; they have the upper hand in resources and can outlast us in any war of attrition.” 

The table rippled, the star map replaced by a holo-projection of the Orbital’s Situation Room. Master Cheung’s face appeared, Ho by his side. She had returned in the aftermath of the battle to direct the recovery effort. 

“We need breathing space so we can recover,” Master Cheung said. “We’ve taken dire losses; I don’t think we can field anything more than a skeleton patrol for the system.”

His father frowned. “I don’t think you should remain in this system,” he said. “Doing so means we would need to spend valuable assets guarding this volume of space that could otherwise be used for attack. I understand from your aides that you’re adding propulsion to the Orbital. My advice would be to relocate as soon as possible. Your people have all fled; I would hate that they don’t have a home to return to when this is over.”

Hadrian could tell Antony didn’t like that idea. Hadrian didn’t either – running on the heels of victory sat ill with him. But his father’s logic was impeccable, and after a while, Master Cheung nodded.

“I see your point. Our propulsion system should be ready in a few standard days. The Protectorate forces has damaged them somewhat. Likely knowing that they were almost ready and the fact their forces had been destroyed in battle with your fleet caused them to attack so rashly.” 

And even then they almost won, Hadrian thought. 

His father’s eyes flicked down to pierce Hadrian.

“I understand you singlehandedly disabled one of the batteliners,” he said, and his voice, though not exactly bursting with pride, was more interested than Hadrian had heard in a long time.

“It wasn’t just me – I had –”

“Hadrian thought of the idea and executed it,” Antony said, cutting him off. “The credit belongs to him, and him alone.”

Lord Julius looked at Antony, coolly appraising. “I’m pleased you have such a high opinion of my son, Master Antony. I suppose it must be your influence on him.”

Hadrian could tell Antony thought his father’s behavior odd: that unsparing attitude, the exacting way he demanded perfection from his son when his son was by all measures a hero. Hadrian was not in the mood to enlighten Antony, especially not in front of everyone else, not even through the privacy of their own shared connection. 

“Yes, Master Hadrian has our highest gratitude,” Master Cheung said. “He is to receive our highest commendations once our evacuation is settled.”

Lord Julius nodded. That was it. No further comment, no questions about what happened, about Hadrian’s condition. Lord Julius would have received the reports from the medic and the others regarding the battle and its aftermath, including the state of Hadrian’s body and mind, as well as the qualities of his Familiar. It was likely Lord Julius had a more complete understanding of the situation than Hadrian did himself.

Hadrian threw a cloak of concealment over his resentment. He should have been used to this – it was the way his father had always been – but it rankled. No, it more than rankled.

It hurt.

But Hadrian could not say anything now, not when his father and Master Cheung were in the midst of negotiating the subsidies Fragrant Orbital would offer in lieu of deploying major forces against the Protectorate. As a wealthy Clan and commercial center, the Cheungs could afford to use its money as a weapon when they lacked manpower. Hadrian only listened half-heartedly as they hammered out an agreement for the proportion of the credits to be allocated.

“This still doesn’t solve our problem,” Tsai said, after the two Clan Heads had finished. “We can win all the victories we want, but what are our goals? They can outlast us, even with defeat after defeat.”

Hadrian’s father stared at her. She looked back unflinchingly. 

“That’s why we beat them into submission, crush their hope before they can fully mobilize,” Lord Julius said. His eyes glittered. “We have the means to wreak terror on them, appear where they don’t expect, destroy their bases and supplies before they have a chance to respond. We can decapitate the head, and the body will follow. A numerically weaker opponent with greater qualitative resources can use that as a path to victory.”

Xander spoke: “I understand that Hadrian’s Familiar fighter has a technology that shrouds the ship’s signature from all manners of detection. If we utilize that with our maneuverability, we will have a decisive edge. Right now, our problem is that even though the Protectorate centers are isolated with only thin ties, these centers are strongly fortified. They might lumber, but they’re well-armored.”

“The energy requirements for the cloaking tech is astronomical,” Hadrian said. “Even if we understand the technology to equip every Familiar fighter with it, it would mean that the ship’s fighting power is decreased. Not to mention the Protectorate is utilizing android crews to man its ships. We can’t compete with our level of manpower.”

Xander stared at him. “What?”

So apparently his brother didn’t know about that. Concern rippled around them as they digested the news, reacting with shock, fear, despair. They all understood the implication – the Protectorate was guaranteed an army with bodies sturdier than humans. 

Hadrian’s father, though, maintained his cool. As did Antony. They remained two pillars of calm among the consternation created by Hadrian’s revelation. 

Antony drummed his fingers on the table. “Can you shut them off? If they’re like the sentries on the space fortress, then they won’t be used for anything other than wave attacks to overwhelm us. We can think of counters, but it would be best to disable them.”

Hadrian tried to think back, to dig past the emotions in his recollection and assess what he learned through a filter of rationality. 

“I think there is a way,” Hadrian said finally. “They’re all linked to one command program; if we get close enough to disrupt the signal, then we’ll be able to deactivate them. From my understanding, these androids are very unstable. They’re not like Familiars or even battle drones, and they’re not capable of sustained actions.” 

“But how do we do that?” someone asked. “Besides, without the Familiar connections, these centers are isolated and cannot broadcast the signals to all their forces. That means there’s no central transmission that we can take out with one blow.” 

Lord Julius was deep in contemplation; he seemed to have barely took in a word of the discussion. 

“We can outfit battleliners with the cloaking shields,” Hadrian said. “They’re the best suited; the other ships are too weak to for it and I don’t think any psions here wants to give up their Familiar’s ability to fight independently, do they?” His eyes went around the room. No one made any sounds of dissent. 

Hadrian had expected not. Psion pilots were all highly individualistic, and none liked relying on others for support or concerted action any more than they needed to. In some way, it was out of necessity. As Hadrian himself had experienced, the telepathic link for effective coordination strained the human mind and limited the number of people able to work together. And without being armed to the teeth, Familiar fighters became less capable of fighting one on one, even when they were hidden from enemy eyes. No one seemed willing to take up that option. 

“We can have our agents disrupt the signals,” Antony said. “We have some inserted into their forces.” 

“I can work on a program to do it. There’s schematics in my Familiar’s memory that relate to these androids.” Now that he spoke those words, Hadrian realized the extent of how much had been held from him before. The knowledge had been there, just out of reach, and Hadrian didn’t even know. 

“Do that.” His father spoke at last. “And Hadrian?”

“Yes, father?”

“You will lead one of the efforts on this. You are the most suitable choice, with your unique understanding and your ship’s ability. And if my theory is correct, then the majority of these will around the capital where the Grand Armada is based. I want you, Hadrian, to go on surface at the planet and disable the signal that runs these android crews. Once you’ve done that, our forces will sweep them away. Your brother will support you in space with a distraction to allow you to enter the capital.”

Hadrian’s emotions warred within himself. Part of him skipped with elation at his father’s trust in him. He knew his father would not have trusted him with such an important task otherwise. 

Yet another part of him quailed at such a task. The fear of failure, the fear of disappointment, what would happen if he were caught – they tore at him. 

His knuckles went white as he clenched his hand. Antony made to say something.

“I understand,” Hadrian said, cutting in. Antony was definitely going to say something that would irritate, it not antagonize his father. “I’ll fulfil the mission to the best of my abilities.” 

“Yes.” His father looked at the gathered men and women. “We are in a state of war, it seems. Not for glory and gold, though that will be readily available to those who distinguish their loyalty on the battlefield, but for our very survival.” He paused. “The odds are against us, but we will not fail. We are the direct descendants of the Old Dynasty. We must live up to their standard: we must resist our enemies in any and every way and try to leave to those who come after us a galaxy that greater than we have inherited.”

He looked at them all. “This is our revolution. We must bring light to an increasingly dark universe, not just be so myopic as to focus on our own survival.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hadrian slipped through the net. It was surprisingly easy: with their approach cloaked, they also used the Protectorate’s access codes to disable the automated satellite defenses that networked the system. Incandescence had managed to download them while they were captured on Wang’s battleliner.

Hadrian could only laugh at the irony. 

The capital planet of Yung’an, the glittering jewel of the Protectorate, floated before him. It was one of the most densely inhabited worlds in the known galaxy. It shone from space with the lights of a trillion households, with a hard-edged brilliance rivaling even the stars. Occupying a central position in the Core Clusters, every aspect of life was used as Prime Reference, from setting the standard time to its coordinates; its resident can rightfully boast that they live in the heart of the galaxy. 

They had landed in a deserted area of the Royal Quarter, the vast government complex that served as the Protector’s residence. A force under Xander and Antony had engaged the Protector’s Home Armada at the edge of the system, drawing away most of the active defenders. Nevertheless, Hadrian needed to be careful.The cloaking device was effective, but it only protected against sensors, not the naked eye, and a Familiar’s silhouette was too distinctive to hide.

You’re damn right, Incandescence thought. You can’t cover up beauty however hard you try.

That beauty almost got us blown out of the sky, Hadrian thought wryly. Hadrian had rather thought that any idiot who looked up would see them. But apparently no one spent their day craning their necks up at the sky, and they had managed the tightest timing between reentry and landing, when the ship was most vulnerable to attack, to dodge the orbiting guardians and the ever-watchful eyes of the surface-to-air systems.

Incandescence dropped in a rather insalubrious area, in what appeared to an abandoned industrial district of the Royal Quarter. Factory chimneys stood lifeless and silent, casting ominous shadows over the flat plain, adding to the gloom of neglect in startling contrast to the glittering spires and pagodas of the palace. 

Hadrian jogged towards the palace, Incandescence in her cat form on his shoulder. A small flotilla under Antony and Xander distracted the planetary defenses while Hadrian disabled the androids from the planet’s surface. The battleliner they commanded was also outfitted with a cloaking device – the Lees’ scientists had managed to recreate a crude imitation of Incandescence’s shrouds that would allow them a split-second advantage of surprise. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Hopefully.

Once Hadrian disabled the androids crewing the fleet guarding the system, Xander and Antony would lead a commando unit down to the surface to take the Protector captive while reinforcements would come to help the flotilla secure space.

Hadrian only hoped it worked.

It was a simple plan, unpredictable in its audacity, which was its strength – and its weakness. 

Hadrian was aware of so many flaws, it was terrifying to recount them. At least he did not need to break into the inner sanctum of the palace for his virus to work. It took weeks of experimenting, but Hadrian and the tech team had refined a program that would swiftly overload the planet-wide web when unleashed. It would create chaos and disrupt the lines of communications between the defenders, creating a gap for the psions to exploit.

And for Hadrian the opportunity to release the signal to incapacitate the androids.

According to what they learned from Wang’s files, they were technically within the perimeter of the Royal Quarter. It made it easier for Hadrian to reach an office where he could link to the planetary web; he would not need to bypass the layers of security that protected the government network. 

They came upon a shabby looking building that appeared empty. Hadrian looked at the cat on his shoulder.

“Might as well go in,” she said, with a most feline shrug. “We have to start somewhere. And this place looks like there wouldn’t be much security.”

Hadrian took the time to smooth down his hair, using the hazy reflection in the dirty glass window. His brilliant plan: to walk in and hope no one paid him much mind, mistaking him for a minor functionary. He had the necessary passwords to go through the scanners, and Hadrian was counting on the apathy of office workers to aid his infiltration. He had taken the precaution to change into a nondescript robe, the type favored by the low-level nobles living in the Cluster worlds. He hoped he blended in enough not to draw questions.

“You’ll have to hide from here,” he whispered to Incandescence. “And try to not talk. Or think. I can’t be making odd faces to the air.”

“Fine,” she said sourly, before slipping under his hem. Hadrian walked awkwardly forward as he opened the door, praying he would not accidentally step on her tail. He had tried to convince her to stay behind, but she had refused adamantly to leave his side.

Reluctant as Hadrian was to place her in danger again, he was glad for the company. It gave him courage, reminded him why he was doing this. 

A harried-looking man greeted him at the door. 

“Are you the new one?” he demanded of Hadrian.

“Y-yes.” Hadrian tried to put a stamp of authority into his voice. “I am he.”

The man gave him a quick once-over. “I thought as much. You’re not wearing your mandarin’s cap. I take it the Secretariat hasn’t issued it yet?”

“No.” That was what he was missing, Hadrian realized. Protectorate government officials wore a headdress that signified their rank and department. He had assumed most would leave them for everyday work, but he clearly was wrong. Thankfully, this man only assumed administrative incompetence was behind Hadrian’s missing attire, and nothing more nefarious. 

Hadrian forced himself to adopt a scowl. “Those bastards at the Secretariat are always so slow. Last week it was the paperwork, this week it’s my court dress. It’s a wonder how we get anything done, I ask you.”

“It’s the war,” the man confided. “Without the psion’s nodes, it’s so hard to get anything done. Everything is delayed or backlogged or somehow missing. I heard that Yao in the Protocol department had his entire promotion sheet accidentally deleted and no backups existed because he was in the Sector Civil Service prior to coming to the Capital.”

Hadrian adopted what he hoped would be a suitably sympathetic look for this Yao. 

“It’s a disgrace,” Hadrian said, egging on this man’s irritation. He could sense that the man had no strong stance on the war apart from the disruption it caused. The fighting brought disorder to his neatly imagined universe, but the man had no ideological view on its rightness or lack thereof. “If only there’s something we can do about it.”

The man froze — and Hadrian caught a flash of fear. The last person who complained had been taken by the secret police. No one had heard from her since. All over the planet, even the mildest grumble that could be construed as a critique of the Protector’s policies was harshly punished. Even when among supposedly close friends, the faintest whisper could land someone in detainment. 

“We must serve this administration with all our diligence to ensure victory,” Hadrian added hastily. Judging from the man’s apprehension, Hadrian was in no danger of being reported by him, but if someone overheard....

“Yes, yes.” The man seemed to remember himself. “I’m the clerk here. I’ll show you to your office.”

Hadrian probed the man’s mind; apparently the man had mistaken Hadrian for the newly appointed supervisor. The man’s respect and determination came through: maybe one day he too would pass the examinations and qualify for the higher echelon of government. 

“Yes, of course,” Hadrian said, drawing himself to the poised arrogance he had often seen his father possessed when interacting with his underlings. Unlike with his father, Hadrian’s was an act. 

It was a dumpy room of an office, with what little furniture there were made of cheap imitation wood. There was a simple table and an uncomfortable-looking chair. In the corner was a console at least five years out of date. 

At least it was clean. Hadrian stepped forward, almost tripping on Incandescence. She sidestepped just in time, her tail whipping past his ankle. 

“Are you alright, sir?” The man looked alarmed. 

“Yes, just a little clumsy,” Hadrian said quickly. He sat down as gracefully as he could. 

The man bowed out. 

Incandescence peeked out. “He’s gone?”

Hadrian nodded. 

She went and nudged the door closed. “We should get started. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Hadrian powered on the console. It took an interminable amount of time before the screen displayed the star emblem of the Protectorate in readiness. 

“Are you even able to connect to the web with that junk?” Incandescence eyed it with a dark look. “It looks like it could barely calculate a linear sequence.”

“Well,” Hadrian‘s fingers moved over the keyboard, almost hovering with its speed, “pray that it does.”

“Department of Public Works,” she read over his shoulder. “This dump should be the first place they bulldoze and rebuild.”

Hadrian hushed her. The logo changed into characters. He looked at the cat. “Ready?”

She nodded. 

He closed his eyes. 

And fell into darkness. 

Hadrian was only experiencing a simulation of the computer networks as Incandescence saw it; it was easier than using the keyboard. Hadrian had seen those holofilms where hackers clacked away. He rather thought typing at that speed would cause more errors than be actually effective. 

He blinked. Hadrian was in a semi-circular room facing a large tapestry, rich in color, but frayed with strand loose and ragged at the edges. It was the representation of the planetary network that Incandescence parsed into an understandable image for Hadrian.

Just as humans helped Familiars experience emotions and qualitative learning through their psychic bond, a Familiar helped a human mind linked to it understand digital technology in a visual and tactile way that seemed natural, even intuitive.

Gold and silver were meshed together, in an intricate pattern that absorbed the attention in a hypnotic manner; Hadrian kept his eyes trained on one strand, not allowing himself to be diverted or distracted. 

He curled the slack end of one loose fiber around his pinky, spooling it tighter and tighter. 

Then he pulled.

The tapestry unraveled, the strings coming apart as the pattern unknotted from its delicate abstraction into a mess of loose threads. Chunks of it fell onto the floor as it became disconnected from the main piece, and fabric littered Hadrian’s feet, the mental impression of bringing down an entire planetary computer system. Parts of it were still intact, but traffic between them became interrupted: transmissions dropping halfway, data retrievals and requests lost, and the signal between the on-planet command and the defenders in space turned into nothing but static. 

He could hear faintly loud cries of dismay and an incessant clicking from his own console, signs that what he had just done had an effect in reality. There would be backup – a network this size and of this importance definitely would – and techs would be immediately at work attempting to bring it online again. Hadrian had little time to waste. He looked at Incandescence, her feline form strangely anomalous amidst the imagined setting. 

“Your brother and Antony have engaged the planetary defenses,” she reported. “The Protectorate Home Armada does not have the capability to use coordinate either with on-ground missiles or call for backup from the rest of the system forces.”

“Your turn,” Hadrian said. “Disrupt the androids.”

The cat opened her mouth – and yowled. 

It was a painful, keening cry, and Hadrian had to fight his hands from instinctively covering his ears. Hadrian received a vivid impression from her mind: the androids with their bland faces suddenly freezing, their movements arrested. 

Incandescence looked at him – and he heard Xander’s voice as she channeled him.

“The battleliners’ rates of fire have become erratic,” Xander said through Incandescence, “and some have stopped attacking altogether. Antony’s leading a squad down to the planet. They’ll land at the Royal Quarter and take the Protector. Good job, Hadrian. It worked.”

They exited out of the simulation, returning to the dingy office. 

There was a knock at the door, and Hadrian opened his eyes to see the clerk from earlier staring at him and his cat. The clerk carried a tray of refreshments: a pot of tea, a plate of pastries. 

Hadrian received the surprise from the clerk’s mind. His supervisor was taking a nap and he had somehow snuck his cat into the office against regulations.

Hadrian froze, his body tensed. if the man reported the incident …. Even the most rudimentary scan would reveal that Incandescence was no ordinary cat. Was not a cat at all, in fact. 

He dared not move as the man moved closer to Incandescence. Hadrian’s breath was stuck in his chest.

Then, the man picked up Incandescence and began petting her.

The shock of surprise from her mingle with his own mix of relief and disbelief. Then she relaxed in the man’s arms and starting purring.

“I just came to tell you that apparently we’re having an outage, sir,” the man said while he continued to stroke Incandescence. She stretched and mewled, pawing ineffectively at him. It was the most catlike behavior Hadrian had ever seen his Familiar display. “I just brought some refreshments. I expect you’d want some while you waited for the technicians to restore the system.”

“Thank you.” Hadrian still couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the offices he could have infiltrated, he had to pick the one with an ailurophile working there. He supposed Incandescence should enjoy this, being pampered by a stranger. “I couldn’t leave her home on the first day. She’s very needy. Can’t stand being without me.”

Don’t be ridiculous, Incandescence said through their mental link. I would have happily left you alone if I thought you could do the job by yourself.

Hadrian kept a straight face. “Do you want to sit down and enjoy the refreshments with me?”  
There was a second wave of astonishment from the clerk. His previous superior only spoke to him to berate or demand work from him. He had never been treated as an equal before.

Hadrian smiled at the man amiably. “Please.” 

The clerk sat down. Hadrian reached and poured him a cup of tea.

“Do you know what’s happening?” Hadrian asked, feigning innocence. “I was still trying to get the console to work, but then all of a sudden – everything just stopped working.”

The clerk shook his head. “Communications between departments are down. We only have the internal network within this building functioning. Any transmissions, even to the next continent over, failed.”

So they weren’t aware of the planetary forces engaged in battle with his brother and Antony. 

“That’s irritating.” Hadrian tried to adopt the face of an earnest civil servant frustrated in his task. “How am I supposed to get any work done?”

The clerk let out a whoosh of breath. “I don’t know. We have so much backlog from when the psionic networks collapsed and had to rely on couriers for everything. Of course, our department doesn’t get priority like the others and can’t use the battleliner broadcasts to connect off-world. Everything’s been delayed by over three months at least.” He grimaced at Hadrian. “Sorry for the state of affairs you find yourself in. 

Hadrian made a moue of annoyance. “I hope it all gets resolved soon,” he said. “If we have as much work as you say, then we really need to hurry.”

“I sure hope so!” the clerk scowled, almost vehemently. His tone surprised Hadrian; he had not expected that this would mean more than a job for the man.

Hadrian took a sip of his tea. It was weak and lukewarm.

“Our department’s budget has been cut again,” the clerk explained apologetically, catching Hadrian’s grimace. “What little we do have we can’t spare for even the smallest comforts.” He scratched Incandescence’s ears. “It’s disappointing; there are so many infrastructural improvements we could be making and neglected repairs we need to do, but we have less than Protocol. I long for the day when rail links and hydro-dams become more important than another gala in honor of some noble that had another grandchild.”

Hadrian nodded sympathetically. The clerk flushed, remembering that he was addressing his ostensible manager.

Hadrian marveled at the inefficiency of the government. It strained credulity, but here he was, sitting in the office of a department head. Perhaps all the resources and attention went to the military and the forementioned Protocol department, with none to spare for the others. It didn’t seem particularly functional to Hadrian. He supposed this worked in Hadrian’s favor, but it had poor implications for what would happen after victory.

The hardships caused by the conflict must be deeper than their agents suspected … or it could be rot from the bureaucratic gridlock. As the clerk proceeded with rattling off a list of projects that had been delayed, canceled, or otherwise put off due to the fighting, Hadrian came to the conclusion that governing an empire was awful.

It was in odd contrast to life on the Clanship. The rigid hierarchy onboard was alleviated by a freedom from want and work that was almost unparalleled in the rest of the known galaxy. The drudgery were left to drones and maintenance bots; only occasionally did psions actually needed to repair damage beyond the capabilities of the machines. 

Hadrian wondered what motivated his father to overthrow the central government. Lord Julius could simply force the man to recognize their independence. Replacing the Protector would certainly guarantee their freedom –it would also chain them to the vicissitude of galactic politics. 

Hadrian supposed he would just have to accept the results of his father’s decision. At least he hoped Lord Julius would retain this clerk and men like him. This clerk seemed rather humorless, but he was diligent and dedicated, the type of man that running an interstellar civilization required. It would be an onerous task to restore the galaxy to prosperity and peace.

The door crashed against the wall. In strode two armed men, two meters tall and holding pulse rifles that could rip a man to shreds. They were almost cybernetic, their armor from durable plastic composites, almost forming exoskeletons over the men. 

The clerk jumped, alarm and fear flashing across his face. But he was not the one they wanted. 

“You’re the psion,” one of them said to Hadrian, pointing the rifle directly at his chest. “You’re coming with us.”

Hadrian didn’t resist. He knew it would be futile. He was neither armed nor had the enhanced speed and strength to fight off these men. In fact, his body weighted lethargically, his limbs tired and heavy. He was too acclimated to the low density of artificial gravity; only the adrenaline that had pumped through him allowed him to forget momentarily the difference. 

He rose, nodded at the clerk, who stared at him with unmitigated shock. 

“Good luck,” Hadrian said politely to the man. “And thank you for the tea.”

Then he was walked out at gunpoint. 

Hadrian considered making a run for it, but even if he could slip away, he had nowhere to hide. 

The two guards flanked him, two pillars of hostile biomechanical muscle, closing off any avenues Hadrian might use to flee. They walked him across the courtyard, the buildings gradually becoming cleaner and ornate, their facades growing more decorative than the simple lines of the office he had just been in. 

They were walking him to the center of the Royal Quarter, Hadrian saw. It was obvious from the curved eaves of the structures that they were approaching the ceremonial heart of the complex. 

Imposing -- as it was meant to be -- the central edifice was a dazzling sight of gold and red, the gilded roof supported by carmine columns. The panels on the roof were set with imagery from traditional mythology of the Old Dynasty, and the marble steps leading up to it likewise guarded by two statues, one of a dragon and another of a lion. 

Hadrian wondered why they were taking him there instead of a cell. 

“Where are we going?” he asked his captors.

No response. 

Hadrian tried searching their minds. No luck; they had training to lock their minds. Try as Hadrian might to scale their mental walls, he could not find any opening to grapple with, his probes sliding off on the smoothness of their defenses. 

Incandescence, he called out, directing his thoughts to the cat curled up in an energy cage. Can you do something about their armor? Hack into it or something? 

I can, if I were out of this cage, she thought. She didn’t appear worried, lying on her back and looking more like a pampered housecat being carried to a grooming session. Hadrian did notice that she was careful not to touch the glowing bars of her prison. 

Well, I enjoyed being with you for this short amount of time.

Hadrian considered considering his disposition to possess a balanced amount of realism, though tinged with a healthy cheerful outlook. But he did not see how he could escape. Last time had been a fluke when Antony had arrived in the nick of time to rescue him. History never repeated itself. 

He could attack the two sandwiching him. Anything but let himself be interrogated. He couldn’t subject himself to their torture again. 

You might want to rethink that idea, Incandescence said, her orange eyes staring at him.

Why?

Because Antony is here.

Before Hadrian could react to that statement, a burst of heat knocked him askew, almost off his feet. Exhaust from the Familiar’s thrusters smelled thick and acrid, the stench almost choking him. 

And yet Hadrian had never been so grateful, because he saw Antony, clad in his white robes with a breastplate of magnetized ceramic carbide, menacing and majestic, shooting the man on his right dead while he jumped out of his cockpit. 

Other men followed, descending from the sky in Familiar fighters like avenging gods in their metallic mounts, blasting the stone pavements with pits and craters as the landing claw gripped the hard surface.

“Let him go or I’ll melt your head off,” Antony said, leveling the rifle at the remaining man. 

The man backed away. His mental shields slipped and Hadrian could feel his emotions now – shock and fear at the sudden appearance of the psion commandos, confusion at how the center of a galactic empire could be so easily breached. It was the equivalent of having the wind knocked out, and Hadrian would sympathize if he weren’t just contemplating how threatening the rifle in the man’s hands were. 

“You have really great timing,” Hadrian said dryly to Antony. He resisted the urge to run into Antony’s arms and kiss him. 

Antony frowned at him. “Can you stop getting yourself captured? Maybe I should stick you on an abandoned planet, just by yourself, so you’ll stop getting into trouble.”

Hadrian laughed. “Then how will you get the chance to play the hero to my distressed self?”

Ignoring the curious looks of the others, Antony grabbed Hadrian in a fierce hug. 

A low chuckle reverberated. Forget about them, Antony thought. It’s just us. Here, now. 

Hadrian concentrated on that source of warmth, forgetting the cold dread, the worry, the grandeur of the location; allowing them fade into the background until it was only him and Antony. 

Antony’s arms were strong around him, and he was so tantalizingly male, that all Hadrian wanted was to hold him and kiss him, let go his inhibitions and allow his senses to take over.

There was a slight cough. Incandescence looked at them irritably, still in the energy cage. 

“You can let me out before you go fuck behind the stairwell or whatever it is you want to do, you know,” she said, her paws folded in a very human gesture. “And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re in the middle of the enemy. You probably should do something more productive right now.”

Hadrian released the lock on the cage, scooping the cat up in his arms.

“Do you want to go back to the ship?” he asked. “Is there even a ship for you to go back to?”

“They cordoned off the ship where we landed and traced our steps to that office you were in,” Incandescence said. “It was only luck that they found you so quick. Luck and the fact that the man you impersonated had sent a messenger to let the office know he had gout. The two secret police agents ran into that messenger in the street. Pure coincidence.”

Antony scowled. “That coincidence almost got you killed.” 

The cat shrugged. “Well, it didn’t. And you shouldn’t be focused on that right now. Your arrival would have definitely set off alarms. You need to hurry before they can rush the Protector off to a secured location somewhere and regroup.” 

Hadrian sobered. “You’re right. We need to hurry.”

“They’re in that one up ahead.” Antony pointed at the ostentatious pile up ahead. “The Hall of Harmony.”

Hadrian eyed Antony with a wicked grin. “Let’s go disrupt that harmony.”

~~

Soldiers surrounded the throne room. The psions held the chamber itself, but outside, scores of troops outfitted the same way as the ones who had arrested Hadrian besieged the hallways. The heavy doors thudded with the impact of their projectiles; their attempts to force their way in proved futile.

So far.

Antony and his men surrounded the Protector. Hadrian had to admit the Protector did not appear the ogre that his father’s propaganda ministers made him to be. The man looked downright homely, with a round face flabby from good-living. His eyes darted back and forth between the barrel of the gun aimed at his chest and his men pounding at the door.

“How are you with cracking their armors?” Hadrian asked Incandescence. 

“Just a little longer,” she said, her voice sounding distant. She held remarkably still, her eyes vacant as she accessed wireless network. “You can help me, you know.”

“Oh. Just tell me what to do.”

“I’m just joking. It’s not complicated enough that human involvement is required.” 

Antony glanced over. “You think it’ll work?”

“The armor weighs twice as much as an average human,” she said. “The only reason why they’re able to move right now is because of the mechanized suspension and motorized movement that keep the armor light and portable. It’s generally a cheaper alternative to bioaugmentation. With the armor signals disrupted, they will essentially be very heavy targets.” 

Antony focused on the Protector. “Your Honor, I hope you see that your options are limited. If you don’t cooperate willingly, well ….” His eyes hardened and Hadrian had a flash of Antony’s memory from when he had found Hadrian on Wang’s battleliner, bruised and pained, with a haunted, shaken look. 

The Protector didn’t need to be an empath to understand Antony’s meaning. His face remained defiant, but his eyes blinked hard. Hadrian felt a pang at seeing Antony so hard and cold, brilliant and adamant as diamond. 

It tore at Hadrian, Antony losing his softer human side because of him. 

Hadrian raised his mental barriers, determined not to allow Antony or any of the other psions in the room sense his feelings. It was a distraction, and perhaps Antony was right to not show mercy to their enemies. Hate or anger didn’t propel him anymore; he experienced exhaustion, a weariness that only longed to end. 

The Protector sagged. “Let’s negotiate.”

“First, tell your forces to surrender,” Antony said. “Both the ones on the surface and the ones in space."

The Protector narrowed his eyes. “What’s to stop you from killing me once I give in? Right now, you’re trapped, and your suicide force in space will be destroyed by ours. Your only bargaining chip is me. If you kill me, you’ll have no way out.”

Antony looked amused. “Right now, your forces are the ones being demolished when the android crews were deactivated.”

The Protector froze. “You’re lying.” The revelation that they knew about the android crews shook him, Hadrian saw. Hadrian could almost hear the man’s thoughts: if they knew about the androids that were so painstakingly cultivated and guarded with the highest secrecy, then they were not bluffing.

Armor crashed against the door. There were sounds of fright from the aides corralled in the corner.

“Armor’s disabled,” Incandescence said, strolling over smugly. She looked at the Protector. “I advise you to give up now, Your Honor. Your security in the Royal Quarters is completely under our control now, and your guards are immobilized. Your leverage has just been reduced.”

A wave of triumph washed over all of them. They were close – Hadrian could see the hope fading in the Protector’s eyes, his window for victory just narrowed. 

“Your planetary forces have all been neutralized, Your Honor,” Antony said, taking on the faraway look whenever a psion communicated with his Familiar. “Your only bargaining chip now is that we don’t want to cause needless bloodshed.”

The Protector drew a ragged breath. “Very well. I surrender.”

~~

Wars had a way of ending with a whimper, Hadrian thought while he sipped the tea. He allowed the breeze to cool the top, setting down the cup again. 

The Lee’s Clanship was serene in a way no other place in the galaxy could achieve. Designed to value harmony with nature, rounded shapes and organic lines disguised the edge of advance technology. 

Hadrian sat with Antony in the small park of an observation bay of the ship. A clear window looked onto Yung’an as the Clanship went into orbit around the planet following their victory. A small arrangement of tea and snacks set on the stone table in front of them. It was quiet, with only the occasional hum of machinery and the muffled sounds of other parkgoers nearby. 

It had taken him awhile to get accustomed. His first step aboard the Clanship after so long had been filled with discomfort, both at the extreme contrast to all the locations Hadrian had visited and at the sudden shift in atmosphere and gravity. 

His arm ached from keeping it locked in control as he drank his tea. Hadrian supposed that was ironic in itself, that a ritual meant to soothe brought him the opposite.

“We did it,” Antony breathed out. “We finally did it. The war is over.”

It was not actually over. Though the Protector and his administration capitulated, segments of the Protectorate military still fought on, resisting the now emboldened coalition gathered against the central government. 

But Hadrian knew ultimate victory was just a matter of time. In taking the capital, they had managed to decapitate the Protectorate’s nerve center and struck a demoralizing blow. But the momentum had swung to their side, and more importantly, they had gained the massive resources and legitimacy of controlling the capital. Hadrian’s father was on the surface right now with Master Cheung and other top officers, assessing the amount of materiel they could requisition. 

“What are you thinking about?” Antony drank his tea slowly. “Your tea is going to get cold.”

“Being back,” Hadrian said. “It feels ... strange.” 

Antony smiled sympathetically. “It’s too quiet, right? It is … almost like another world.” He patted Hadrian’s hand. “At least the war is over.” He poured himself more tea. “At least we can all sleep a little better at night now.”

Hadrian shuddered. “Sometimes I can’t sleep.” He considered himself lucky not to have nightmares like so many others did. But every so often, Hadrian would see blank eyes staring at him in his dreams.

Antony took Hadrian’s hand. “It’s over,” he said. “We’re not pressed for manpower that you need to put yourself in combat. You’re safe now.” 

Hadrian stared into his cup. Leaves floated in the water, almost forming a discernible pattern. 

“I suppose so,” he said finally. He raised his head, looking at the jewel of a planet floating in dark space. “There’s a lot of work to be done even so. The planet’s situation is … chaotic.” From the clear plasti-glass window, the burned-out frames of starships and satellites, and the claws of the salvagers picking up debris to recycle and resell were visible. “I suppose my father will let us know the results of the audit soon.” Lord Julius had already issued a proclamation granting amnesty to any who laid down arms, as well a general pardon for low to mid-level civil servants, recognizing that he needed their cooperation to fully exploit the resources of the Protectorate. 

“Even with the mess down there, there is still a great deal of wealth to go around. The Protector’s personal treasures and accounts are already worth millions. That’ll go a long way to paying for needed supplies and food for our allies. And rebuilding our own fleet.” 

“What happened to the Protector?” Hadrian asked. “I understand there will be a trial.”

“He’ll be tried for war crimes and likely exiled,” Antony said. “I believe the punishment the prosecutors have in mind is to place him in stasis and jettison somewhere into deep space.”

Hadrian understood that was essentially a death sentence, though more humane than most. At that rate, the Protector would travel for years, likely living and dying before anyone ever found him. It was unlikely that his pod would ever be found, a speck lost to the emptiness of space. 

“As long as there isn’t a bloodbath,” Hadrian said. He drained the rest of his tea. “I don’t want my father to begin the new regime with that. Though I suppose now that we have some time, we should go visit the planet. It is the center of the galaxy, after all.”

Antony snorted. “Those people are much too full of themselves. But I have been receiving messages and entreaties from the noble houses trying to ingratiate themselves with the Cheungs. We’ve been invited to a number of parties.”

“We?” Hadrian didn’t count any of the capital’s aristocracies among his acquaintance. He might have heard of one or two of the more notable families, but he certainly did not socialize with any of them. “Don’t you mean Xander? He’s more likely to know these people.”

“Well, they invited me,” Antony said. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Hadrian supposed he should be touched by that, but he despaired of functions like these, studiously avoiding them to the point of being a recluse. “Doesn’t like my sort of thing. Can I attend as a holo?”

“What, and have your programs interact with the guests for you? I know you; if I let you do this, you’ll probably just have one of your computer programs impersonate you.”

Hadrian glowered. “My programs aren’t that advanced.” Yet. With Incandescence’s help, it was only a matter of time. She had so much knowledge stored about the Old Dynasty that was waiting for them to discover together.

She had postulated his bioaugmentation took up an excessive amount of his neurological functions and thus her memory space. It was ironic what Hadrian had suffered also opened him up to this gift of knowledge. He rubbed his wrist, feeling where the cuffs had bit into his skin. 

The medics wanted to examine him further, but Hadrian refused. He hated being prodded and poked, feeling as though he were a prized lab specimen. Besides, their preliminary investigation had turned up no answer. Hadrian wasn’t expecting much to be honest. It wasn’t as if their findings would convince other psions to willingly destroy their own biomechanical enhancements just to memorize extra facts. 

Antony tapped Hadrian on the arm. “Sorry, do you really not want to go? I was hoping you’d be by my side, but if you really don’t want to —"

Hadrian shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Besides, I’m sure my father and brother will be expecting me to make an appearance too. I’m still technically the Cheung’s liaison, am I not?”

“Am I part of your official duties, Master Hadrian?”

Hadrian smirked at him. “Of course. Very onerous one too.”

“Mhm?” Antony’s fingers stroked Hadrian’s wrist gently. His gaze grew heated. “Onerous?”

“Very,” Hadrian managed out as his brain overloaded with sensations, Antony’s heady scent filling him as Antony moved in to kiss him. 

“Still onerous?” Antony asked, his breath hot against Hadrian’s face. 

“Even more,” Hadrian gasped, his hand almost knocking over his cup. “Such a bother, dealing with you is—”

“Should I come back?”

Hadrian jumped away as if burned. His brother watched them with equal parts amusement and exasperation. 

Antony demonstrated no such haste. “Do you need something?” he asked, straightening his robes deliberately and with care. “I think we’re allowed to have a moment to ourselves, don’t we?”

“Well, you can do – whatever you were doing – later. Father’s called a General Assembly and you’re wanted on the bridge. Both of you.”

Surprise and curiosity sparked in Antony’s mind. “Why? I’m not a member of your family, and I wasn’t aware of anything that my father had in mind to announce through me. Besides, aren’t they both on Yung’an right now?”

“There will be a real-time transmission from the palace,” Xander said, “but we need to be at the bridge.”

Reluctantly, Hadrian untwined his hand from Antony’s, and they set off along the tunnels leading to the bridge located at the center of the Clanship. 

“What is this about?” Hadrian asked his brother. 

Xander gave a faint smile. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

They moved along the winding path, Hadrian seeing the other inhabitants of the Clanship heading to their respective meeting bays. There were dozens of them all over the ship, and Hadrian knew those who were deemed not important enough or too far from the bridge would gather at those, to listen to what his father had to say.

It annoyed Hadrian that they couldn’t simply go to one of those meeting bays instead. The section of the Clanship they were in was designed to be a nature preserve, and his ancestors-- or whoever constructed the Clanship-- had deliberately not included a magno-rail for aesthetic reasons. The Clanship was a space-faring metropolis larger than even a first-rate battleliner, capable of housing millions with room to spare, as demonstrated by the multiple gardens mimicking various terrains. There was even one biome that included a snowcapped mountain. These doubled as training environments and testing sites for those who needed to familiarize themselves with their bioaugmentations. 

Yet overall, the Clanship was a home rather than a structure of martial prowess. It sought to evoke balance and order, the two tenets of the Lee’s teachings, and its buildings reflected that. Quarters aboard the ship were not austere, but nor were they ostentatiously luxurious. They reminded Hadrian of his father, elegant in their simplicity. 

The bridge attempted to continue that style of understated refinement, though it could not hide its bombastic magnificence. It was an enormous room, a hemisphere with a vast dome clear to the stars. It unsteadied one at times, particularly when the Clanship sometimes flew “below” a planet sometimes, giving the impression that the crew was suspended upside down. The stronger gravity here generated by the ship’s rotation in addition to the stabilizer only added to a sense of freefall.

Scores of personnel manned the console banks and whirling robotic arms moving command chairs around the stations -- with occasionally a ranking officer sitting in one -- added to the impressively hectic atmosphere. It was a contrast to the tranquility of the rest of the ship. 

But it made sense.

It was the nerve center of their Clan, for not only the Clanship, but also all activities and interests the Lees were involved in, from financial companies to managing communications for local sector governments to scouting expeditions.

Hadrian suddenly realized everyone else were wearing their formal robes. Hadrian stuck out in his black jumpsuit. 

Eyes turned his way. Their way, Hadrian amended; they were most likely waiting for Xander to begin the transmission from Yung’an. But quite a few were on him and Antony, and filled with interest and reverence.

Hadrian had no idea why they were like that. It made him uncomfortable, putting him onto a pedestal he didn’t belong on. It made sense for Antony, a hero and the Heir to the Cheungs, but Hadrian was only a second son, and one who rarely appeared to mingle with the rest of the public,

“Stop fidgeting,” Xander hissed. He stood back and all the screens flashed on. His father appeared with Master Cheung, flanked by their officers, in the Palace’s throne room. Hadrian could see both Tsai and Ho on the side, their face impassive. 

The Palace’s throne room was more dazzling onscreen. There was the throne itself, a great three-leveled structure in its own right. Over the seat in the center, backed by a high reredos of solid gold, spread two great wings, also of solid gold. All around was white marble and jade. Dragon leered over the top, the head facing outward, guarded by six pillars of sandalwood red. Set into the ceiling directly above was an intricate caisson that hid the camera and projector. 

“My friends,” Lord Julius began, “I come before with glorious news. We have triumphed. Not only for the psions, but all who live in the empire under the oppressive yolk of the Protectorate. Today, we cast it off. The Protector and his minions will do no more to harm you, and though we have long days ahead, we will rebuild our civilization to be greater than before.”

He paused. “For too long we have strayed from the precepts of our ancestors. We have forgotten their teachings, abandoned their examples. And it had brought us to near ruins. Well, no more.” He looked directly at the screen, his eyes piercing, and Hadrian felt the chill of his power even thousands of kilometers beyond the atmosphere. “We cannot continue this path. Not if we want to thrive. 

Many of you will wonder if we psions have acted out of self-interest in this war. No. Out of self-defense and self-preservation, yes, but our preservation is also your salvation. We are one: the head and the body cannot remain separated as we have tried to do so. 

And no longer will it be thus. We, the psion Clans of the Empire, the direct descendants of the Old Dynasty, will now assume full guardianship over the Protectorate.”

Stunned silence on the bridge met Lord Julius’ statement. Only Xander displayed no surprise. 

His father likely had informed his brother prior to this announcement, Hadrian thought. He glanced over at Antony, whose face remained impassive even as he tried to contain his shock. 

Psions had never so directly involved themselves in the governance of the Empire. Influenced, yes, and manipulated events to their liking. But with the exception of the Cheungs ruling Fragrant Orbital, the Clans had preferred to remain silent partners, occasionally meddling but not more. 

Lord Julius watched through the screen, a faint smile playing on his face. It was the closest Hadrian had ever seen him close to a gloat. 

Hadrian sought out Master Cheung and the others. Their faces, too, were emotionless, as unmovable as stone while they listened to Lord Julius. 

“The Convocation of psions will share power with the old government,” Lord Julius continued. “And I will assume the role of Preceptor, the speaker for us all, to guide our civilization into greater heights.” 

The transmission flashed, ended. A great crescendo rose as the news washed over the crew. Hadrian stared at his brother. Others did too. They all waited for Xander to speak, to address the questions they had. 

“I understand you have your misgivings,” Xander said, his voice sonorous even against the cavernous echo of the bridge. Microphones must be taped to his throat, the signal picked up by receptors. “But this is the only way. Necessity compels us to take up the burden of leading the galaxy onto the correct path. Will it difficult? Yes. But think of what we have paid so far. We have before us the choice to protect our children, our grandchildren, from the deprivations we suffered.

And not only for us: to protect the galaxy from the deprivations they have suffered. Great is our task, great is our responsibility but great is the honor. I am convinced that we the chosen few will rise to the height of our obligations which have been thrust upon us.”

Xander finished, his eyes on the assembled men and women beneath him. His speech must have been broadcasted all over the ship, played in every meeting bay and possibly even over the intercom. It must have been heard a thousand times over, by millions of people onboard. And his father’s announcements a million times that number. 

Hadrian waited. Waited for a reaction. Then –

One by one, they knelt before his brother, before Hadrian, and an uproarious cheer rippled, a wave that grew ever higher, with no peak in sight.

Antony turned to Hadrian. “So.”

Hadrian felt shaky. His head ached from the diffuse emotions attacking him all around. “So.”

“It looks like we are on the cusp of a new age,” Antony said. He gave a sardonic bow to Hadrian. “My congratulations.”

Hadrian could not tell what Antony’s feelings were. He could not even tell what his own were. He placed a hand on Antony’s arm to steady himself and took a deep breath. 

They were indeed on the cusp of a new age.

~~

The Great Ballroom was a grand space that was only a little smaller than the throne room, though not by much. A chandelier hung from the center, its icicles chiming softly. Lords and ladies of the court swanned about in exotically colored silks. Servants attended them, with plates of sweetmeat and silver decanters of wine passed around. There were also entertainers and courtesans, no doubt the typical parasites of court. The press of the crowd made the heat intense, and Hadrian sweated under the collar of his formal robes. 

The musicians began a fast-paced tune. The dancers began to undulate to the rhythm, as attendants circulated around with plates of skewers and confectionaries and flagons of wine. 

Hadrian followed Antony to the center of the hall. He declined the food, though he did admire the plate it laid on. It was dainty delicate objet d'art, silver and jeweled and heavy despite its size. 

The press of everyone’s minds only added to his discomfort. Many of the attendees were uneasy with the psions’ new role. The Clans had always provided a critical but advisory function with reliable communications and vital services. They were no strangers to the corridors of power, but always, they had always remained the eminence grise, their presence never seen even if always felt. His father, in assuming power so suddenly, and in so bold a manner, had thrown all the old assumptions to the side, exacerbating old tensions and creating new antagonisms.

This gala was hosted in hopes of reconciling the existing power structure to the new reality. Hadrian saw not only members of the noble houses living in the capital, but also captains of industries and high ranking civilian and military officials.

Hadrian eyed a group of Protectorate’s Star Armada admirals huddled together. Hadrian clenched his fists, remembering his suffering at their hands. He understood the political necessities of reconciliation and pardon, but he would glad throw the lot of them in prison. 

At least the Protector had been exiled. Hadrian had been in the audience while two burly men clad in cybernetic armor closed the lid over the Protector’s body, satisfyingly similar to sealing a coffin. In a way, it was: the stasis pod would be jettisoned, floating until its systems faltered into the depths of space. The Protector would likely live and die alone, abandoned in darkness. 

Antony handed him a flute of champagne. “Enjoying yourself? All this is technically your family’s now.”

Hadrian made a face. “Don’t be ridiculous. My father might have decided to assume the role of Preceptor, and Xander might be going along with this, but we are not declaring a new dynasty. Not even close. It’s as if I called you the Prince of Fragrant Orbital.”

“Oh gods, you’re right.” Antony grimaced.” I’m waiting until some fool here actually does that. These people here don’t seem to be that intelligent. At least the so-called elites on the Orbital were either high-level administrators or ran their own business successfully. I can’t figure out why half theses attendees consider themselves important because their ancestors had the luck to land first on some planet.”

“There are plenty of the Orbital’s elites here too,” Hadrian pointed out. He spotted a few he recognize from his first official function on Fragrant Orbital. That was so long ago….

“Oh.” Antony spotted them too. “They must be here to discuss the reconstruction plans and new bids for debt restructuring with the old regime’s bonds. They did ask if they could meet with me, but I didn’t think they would here tonight. Excuse me; I should speak with them.” 

Hadrian felt rather annoyed at the cavalier way Antony abandoned him.

It wasn’t a requirement that Antony stayed with Hadrian, but it would have been nice. Antony was the one person Hadrian knew at this party. Well, there was his brother, surrounded by a throng of admirers, but Hadrian had not the slightest inclination to head that way. Nor did he think Xander would welcome his approach.

He drained his glass quickly. The fizz of the liquid tasted odd on his tongue. Hadrian glowered at the intricate crystal. Was he supposed to stand and drink by himself in the corner?

A tap on his shoulder and he turned to see another offered glass. 

“You look like you need another one,” the man offering the drink said. He was a pleasing one to look at, with a smile almost as broad as his shoulders and tousled hair. “Not a particularly pleasant experience attending one of these things sober.”

Hadrian accepted it. “My thanks.” He looked for Antony out of the corner of his eye. Antony was still in conference with the delegation from the Orbital. He sipped sullenly at his wine. Then, belatedly realizing how boorish his behavior was, Hadrian made an effort to smile at the man. “Sorry. I don’t believe we met. Do you attend these types of events often?”

“I do.” The man made an attractive face of dismay. “An occasional occupational hazard for the sons of the idle rich in Yung’an.” He gave a gallant bow. “But I have not introduced myself yet. I am Yan Jing, at your service. You can just call me Jing.” 

“No Lord or Childe or anything?” Hadrian asked before he could stop himself. He flushed. “Sorry. My manner’s appalling. I don’t usually attend events like these, and crowds this size make me anxious. I’m Hadrian Lee –”

“I know who you are,” Jing interrupted with a grin to let Hadrian know he wasn’t offended. “I think all of us on the planet have memorize your faces by now. That over there is your brother, and the one you were just with is Antony Cheung, of Fragrant Orbital fame.” 

Hadrian felt a slight disquiet at the fact the man knew who he was. Not that his identity was a secret, but Hadrian studiously prized obscurity. He had even gone through the restored Yung’an networks to delete some mentions of the mysterious Hadrian Lee. 

“I think we’re all anxious to become acquainted with our new masters,” Jing said. His tone was light, but Hadrian definitely saw an edge in his eyes. Hadrian held back from probing the man’s mind, though. It seemed … impolite, especially with how upfront the man was being with him. “We have to survive, one way or another, and the idle rich often occupy the most insecure position during a change of regime.”

“Our intentions are peaceful,” Hadrian said, rather irritable at how guilty Jing’s words made him made him. “If you know who I am, then you doubtless know of my father’s pardon and general amnesty.”

“That’s only for the supporters of the Protector,” Jing said. “For the ones who only live here trying to make – or keep – their fortunes under capricious rulers, I imagine a great deal of nervousness is keeping them up at night right now.”

Hadrian regarded the man over the top of his glass. “Does that include you?” He didn’t mind frankness, nor was he blind, but he was his father’s son, and Hadrian would never jeopardize his father’s plans, not even through an innocent slip of the tongue to a handsome man.

“I’ll take care of myself one way or another.” Jing grinned at him, and Hadrian thought Jing had a face that was meant to smile. It elevated his good looks from being merely pleasant. “I suppose no one’s offered you congratulations yet. Or condolences. Responsibility comes with power, you know. That’s why I try so hard to avoid it.”

Hadrian laughed. “It hasn’t been all that bad so far.” He gestured around. “One might say that being part of events like these is a perk of my new position.” 

“But not you,” Jing said, favoring Hadrian with a scapegrace smile. “You look like you would rather be away from all of this.” 

There was a perceptiveness underneath Jing’s charm, and Hadrian knew he should be wary. But it had been so long since he had enjoyed a conversation since – well, since he met Antony. Psions either looked upon him with the kind of respect that made him feel like he was a highly expensive piece of hardware or pity from knowing what he had experienced during the war. 

“I do enjoy quiet more,” Hadrian admitted finally. No harm in confessing that. “And I don’t think the ventilation system in here has been renovated in the past hundred years. It smells like sweat and alcohol.”

Jing chuckled. “Most people would rather notice the antique mosaics or the gilt paintings on the walls. You’re the first to complain about the smell.”

“Yes, well, I’m not most people.” 

Jing appraised Hadrian. “No, you certainly aren’t.” 

Hadrian could not help but blush at that. Attention from an attractive man always left him wrongfooted, and Jing was attractive indeed.

Guilt pricked him at the thought; it seemed disloyal somehow to Antony. But it was only an observation, and Hadrian had eyes like any other man. Besides, Antony was still talking to the important-looking men from Fragrant Orbital. 

Hadrian suddenly experienced a wave of dizziness, as though he had suddenly shrunk. He was out of his depth, a nobody in this new pool filled with so many undercurrents pulling this way and that. And what was worse was that he could see them, but nothing he tried to resist worked. 

Antony had years of experience dealing with influential figures, being his father’s right-hand in running Fragrant Orbital. He was charming and knew how to handle these people, was familiar with intrigues and all the subtle exercises of power that Hadrian didn’t. No wonder he had left Hadrian behind.

Hadrian didn’t know how to cope with social interaction at the best of times. And now, having seen all the handsome bucks and glittering beauties that Yung’an had to offer, Hadrian wasn’t sure why Antony even paid attention to him in the first place.

It was claustrophobic in here. Hadrian barely remembered to make his excuses to Jing before he ran out to the hallway. 

He sat in one of the alcoves, staring at his hands. He wasn’t a good match for Antony; he wouldn’t even be able to hold his own in a fight, damaged as he was. He’d have to rely Antony to protect him.

Always holding him back, always needing to be rescued…. 

The soft swish of fabric sounded. Hadrian raised his head to see Jing, holding out another glass of wine, this time deep red and filled to the brim.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said. “Can I sit?”

Hadrian took the glass. “Go ahead.” He didn’t want company, but he could think of no excuse to refuse. Not to mention, being alone with his own thoughts was a little overwhelming at the moment. 

“You didn’t upset me,” Hadrian said, catching a glimpse of Jing’s worry. “I just have a little headache.” He gave a small smile. “I told you, I’m not so good with all this socializing.”

“You didn’t seem to do so poorly with me,” Jing said. 

That’s because I don’t care about you, Hadrian almost said. He looked at Jing’s earnest expression, his eyes wide and clear. 

Hadrian forced a smile on his face. “It must have been the heat and the smell back there then,” he said lightly, thankful that Jing wasn’t a psion. He didn’t know if Jung believed him, but at least Jing wouldn’t be able to read Hadrian’s true thoughts.

“Yes, much better out here,” Jing said. 

There was a shift of movement next to Hadrian as Jing inched closer. Hadrian breathed in. Unlike the dancing hall, Jing smelled nice; there was an almost spicy scent, very likely the aftershave he used.

It was slightly overpowering; it tickled Hadrian’s nose. Hadrian resisted the urge to sneeze. There was the faintest touch of warmth and Hadrian found that Jing’s arm was around him, locking him in as Jing’s face materialized before his own, the man’s lips dominating Hadrian’s line of sight –

There was a loud thump. Hadrian had instinctively backed away, and in that moment of confusion, Antony had appeared, flinging Jing with his preternatural strength across the hall. 

Hadrian grabbed Antony’s arm as Jing hit the wall; Antony shrugged off Hadrian as he would water. 

“Antony, don’t!”

Jing’s eyes was glazed. He laid stunned against the wall. Antony’s, too, were unseeing, though enraged rather than bemused. Hadrian clung onto him, holding on with all his strength. Where the hell was security?

Antony was breathing hard. The battle madness in his eyes faded, replaced by a hurt and a hard set to the mouth that wrung Hadrian’s heart. 

Hadrian should be worrying about Jing; the man had hit the wall hard enough to break. But he couldn’t think about that right now – all he saw was Antony’s angry face.

“Wait!”

Antony strode off while– finally! – the security arrived. The man who looked like he was in charge opened his mouth to stop Antony but wisely thought better of it. 

“What happened?” he asked Hadrian instead, as his men helped a still-dazed Jing to his feet.

Hadrian shook his head. “I can’t talk right now. I need to go find Antony.”

He found Antony resting in another alcove up ahead in a deserted corridor. It was dark, the lights not having been repaired, and the only source of illumination came from the openings into other hallways.

Hadrian could just make out Antony’s figure. His face was unreadable.

“Hello.” Hadrian knelt down next to him. Antony turned to him, his eyes that of a stranger.

“Why aren’t you making sure your new friend is alright?” Antony’s voice came out low. 

“I came to make sure you were alright.”

“Well, I’m fine. More than fine.” Antony kicked at the marbled floor. He glared at Hadrian. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I wasn’t doing anything with him, honestly.” Hadrian was still unsure how everything came to happen. One minute they were just sitting, and the next – 

“He tried to kiss you,” Antony said tightly. “And you just sat there.”

“We were having a conversation!” Hadrian was wrung out, like a towel after washing. “I don’t know what happened – I just --”

“You’re an empath,” Antony said with a sneer. “You’re surely not telling me that you had no idea what he wanted.”

“I don’t make a habit of eavesdropping on other people’s minds,” Hadrian snapped, stung. He wanted to reprimand Antony for being so juvenile, but he caught the image of what he had looked like from Antony’s mind. 

He flushed.

“Look, I really wasn’t,” Hadrian said in a more conciliatory tone. “He just came up to me after you left, and we started talking. I was feeling uncomfortable inside, and he followed me out. I thought he just wanted to check on me. You know, like any decent person would do.”

“He was guarding his mind, but not that well,” Antony said. His chest had stopped heaving, but his expression stayed taut. “He wants you. He thinks that having you will secure a place for him in this new world your father is creating. And he wanted to get under those robes of yours.”

“They are rather roomy,” Hadrian tried joking, but it fell flat. Antony remained stony. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened. I wasn’t expecting anything, and I had too much on my mind to be on my guard.”

Antony softened. “I know you don’t like these kinds of events and you don’t go to them much, but there are so many people like him, on the hunt, preying on vulnerable ingenues like you.”

Hadrian laughed. “You think I’m a vulnerable ingenue? I did take out an entire battleliner by myself, you know.”

The corner of Antony’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps that might not be the most accurate description of you. But social and political intrigues: they’re a whole new battlefield, and it isn’t much kinder than an actual one.” Hadrian sensed the unspoken fear from Antony, the provenance of which he wasn’t sure of. Just because an empath knew what people were feeling didn’t mean Hadrian always understood the reason why. 

Hadrian sat down against the wall, cold against his back. Antony was right about one thing: Hadrian had no idea if Jing had approached him with ulterior motives or had been simply caught by the passion of the moment, but this world wasn’t one he was comfortable with. 

“I trust you,” Hadrian said abruptly. “And I hope you will trust me when I tell you that I’ll be able to figure this out. After all, I had never flown in combat except for simulations before all of this, and I managed somehow.” He hesitated. “And trust that I won’t betray you with anyone else.”

“I do,” Antony protested. “It’s just – I got jealous, alright? Seeing you with someone else, especially like that….”

“You’re probably the best looking one at the ball,” Hadrian said, moving to give Antony a quick peck. His heart thumped at hearing Antony’s words. “And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. Didn’t you see all those people looking at you? I can guarantee you that they’re not just staring at your odd fashion sense.”

A deep rumble from Antony’s chest signaled his amusement. He grinned. “I rather think I cut a dashing figure in these.” 

“You always wear them,” Hadrian said. “How many of these do you have?”

Antony shrugged. “I like them.” He pulled Hadrian up in his arms. “Just as much as I like you.”

Hadrian gave Antony a sour look. “I would hope you like me a lot more than you like your robes. Which you probably have multiples of.”

“No comment.” Antony kissed Hadrian, slow and lingering, his hand splayed on Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian could feel the warmth of the palm through the silk. “But I like the way you feel right now.” 

Hadrian did too. It seemed right, putting his head on Antony’s shoulder. Both of them were breathing hard again, though this time the cause was not due to agitation, but arousal. 

“Maybe we haven’t been spending enough time together,” Antony said, nuzzling Hadrian’s cheeks. It was the closest to an acknowledgement and apology of his behavior earlier that Hadrian was ever going to receive.

But then, maybe it didn’t matter so much who was right and who wasn’t. Maybe all that mattered right now was that they were together, despite the odds they had faced and despite their differences. Perhaps they needed to resolve those issues that laid between them, both old and new, but not now.

For now, they would enjoy each other.

~~

Hadrian stared at the screen glumly. He tapped the key twice. Nothing.

Perhaps he should try reaching Antony again instead of trying to improve the civil service’s network security. It wasn’t an impossible task but using the government’s machines instead of his own slowed down his efforts immensely. 

He thought of Antony. He wanted to spend more time with him, ever since the altercation at the gala, but events intervened. 

Hadrian had intended to retire to work on his own projects. The war had become an exercise in mopping up the remnants of the Protector’s loyalists, and with the new resources his father had, it didn’t seem Hadrian’s particular talents were in need anymore. They could fight battleliners with battleliners now; there were no more need for sneak attacks. 

But his father frowned on that desire.

“You can’t hide behind your books and consoles anymore,” he had told Hadrian sternly. “I’ve been indulgent, but now we’re in dire need of everyone’s help, given the vastly expanded work related to creating a stable new order.”

His brother had concurred. 

“You’re not without talent, Hadrian,” Xander had said, “though you don’t make good use of it.” His own Familiar, Fidelity, had watched from the side, her wolf form slightly intimidating. Hadrian had wished Incandescence was by his side, but she was much more catlike in her behavior than she liked to admit: she had been napping. 

So Xander had assigned Hadrian with the task of improving the bureaucracy’s cybersecurity. Given the ease with which Hadrian had broken in, Hadrian thought it would have been a simple task.

Unfortunately, the rebooted webs were a mess, and somehow the crash had mangled most of the computers’ operating software, so Hadrian was stuck here. Waiting for the damn console to turn on. 

“What are you doing with that piece of junk?” Incandescence said, walking into the tiny room that served as Hadrian’s office in the Royal Quarter. Hadrian scowled.

“You can help, you know.” He watched as she jumped onto the table, stretching. “I can’t get this damn thing to start.”

“I’m a computer, not a miracle worker,” she said. “Why don’t you get one of the techs to come in here and help you?” 

“I did,” Hadrian gritted out. “Twice.”

“Besides, I’m not sure why you need to use this antique. You have me, the most advanced sentient intelligence created by humans.”

Hadrian gave her a dark look. “You were sleeping.”

“Ah.” She paused in the middle of pawing at the cheap imitation wood table. “I feel your disagreeable mood has a lot less to do with hardware and a lot more to do with a certain handsome young man, am I right?”

“I haven’t talked to him in days,” Hadrian said, falling back against his chair. “We used to spend every day together and now I don’t even know where the hell he is.”

“From my conversation with Luminosity, I think Antony’s back at the Orbital,” the cat said. “Helping with the rebuilding. Your father just signed a new charter upgrading their rank to Dominion status, and released a number of subsidies meant to help with the recovery.”

“Oh.” Antony hadn’t told Hadrian that. That meant it could be weeks or even months before Hadrian saw Antony again. Yung’an to the Fu system took a week’s journey at least.

“It’s the Kuang’Fu system now,” Incandescence corrected, getting up to climb on Hadrian’s shoulder. Hadrian winced a little under the weight. She was denser than she appeared, and Hadrian wasn’t accustomed to Yung’an’s heavier gravity yet. “They renamed it in honor of the restoration of their rights and in recognition of their sacrifice.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hadrian said repressively. He should be happy for Antony, for Master Cheung, but instead, he just ached with loneliness. That altercation with Yan Jing had jaded Hadrian; he kept his distance from the others now, earning a reputation as standoffish. 

Hadrian understood logically he was overreacting, but he didn’t see how he could be comfortable with people after that episode. 

“Can you call Antony?” Hadrian asked. “I want to talk to him. He’s not sleeping right now, is he?” Hadrian could never grasp trick to calculating time differences between systems. 

“No, it should be morning in the Kuang’Fu system, and no I don’t think calling him will be necessary.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m right here.”

Hadrian had to restrain himself from not running into Antony’s arms. Judging from the crinkling wink, Antony knew how happy Hadrian was to see him. 

“When did you arrive?” Hadrian asked. “I thought you were back at the Orbital.”

“I was,” Antony said. “But it turns out my staff is much more competent than I am, and they really don’t need me there impeding their work. So I came here. To find you.” 

“I’m sure you weren’t impeding anything,” Hadrian said. He noticed now messy and cramped this office was. “Do you want to sit? Any refreshments? I can have the staff bring some in from the kitchens. I wouldn’t recommend anything warm, though; the kitchens are too far and everything gets cold by the time they arrive.”

Antony laughed. “I’m alright. I ate aboard the ship. Besides, I have some free time, so I thought I’d come by to visit the city.”

“Ah.” Hadrian tried to hide his disappointment that Antony didn’t come back for him. After all, Yung’an City, the capital of the eponymous planet and heart of the known galaxy, had all the attractions a man could desire. At least Antony came to inform Hadrian of his presence. “What are you planning to see?” 

“With you.” Antony looked Hadrian direct in the eyes. He spoke almost shyly. “I was wondering if you wanted to explore the city with me.” 

“Oh.” Hadrian blinked.

“If you’re not too busy, that is.” Antony gestured around the room. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever work you’re trying to finish up.”

“You’re not,” Incandescence piped. “He was staring and moping before you arrived. He hasn’t finished any work today.”

Hadrian made to hush the cat. “Ignore her,” he said, shooting Incandescence a glare of the deepest malevolence. She meowed and stretched her back. “I was just – well – I can come.”

Antony was hiding a smile. “Do you want to join us?” he asked Incandescence. 

“Not really. I don’t really like being around too many humans. Where’s Luminosity?”

“I’m here.” The silvery nine-tailed fox peeked her head through the door. “Why are you all meeting in this closet?”

“That was what I thought too, but apparently it’s designated in the Palace blueprint as a Class C Office,” Incandescence said. “What do you want to do? I can show you this new fishing trick by the lake.” Incandescence, when she was not napping, had taken up the hobby of sitting by the lake and clawing at every fish that swam close.

“I would like that,” Luminosity said, inclining her head regally. She eyed Antony and Hadrian. “Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Antony grinned at Hadrian. “Think they’ll keep out of trouble?”

“I doubt it. But the palace staff needs some terrorizing anyways. They’ve far too complacent in their jobs.”

Antony laughed. “How’s it like living in a palace?”

“I’ve been staying aboard the Clanship,” Hadrian said. “I’m too used to my quarters there. Maybe when it moves out of the system, I’ll come on surface.” A Clanship sailed through the stars at sub-light speed, its size and the population onboard making a jump through space too risky. It moved constantly, floating majestically at her stately pace. The Lee’s Clanship would be out of the system in two more days, and then it would become impractical for Hadrian to travel back and forth. “How long are you staying this time?”

“I don’t know,” Antony said. “Maybe a few days, maybe a little longer. I do have a few things I need to take care of, but nothing that can’t be done over Familiar connection.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with me. If you haven’t made any alternative plans yet. I know the palace has so many guest suites, but it might be nice since my suite has a private training room, and I know how you exercise every morning—"

“I would love to stay with you,” Antony said. His mouth quirked. “You should be using your training room too. Your old instructor probably is furious you’re not following them. Just because you’re a prince now doesn’t mean you should shirk your training.”

“I’m not a prince,” Hadrian said irritably as they set off to the city in a luxuriously appointed hover-carriage. For all its plush interior, Hadrian sat stiff and uncomfortable against the seat trying to mold to his body’s heat and pressure. 

Antony reclined next to him, reading articles on his handheld. 

“That’s what some of the local publications are calling you now. ‘Prince Hadrian and Prince Xander of the Lee Clan.’”

Hadrian glowered at Antony. “Xander won’t like that either. He’s very uptight about the proper form of address.” He sighed. “I suppose I need to go into the web later and delete those articles before he gets upset.” Xander probably wouldn’t; he had taken to his newfound responsibility with the born confidence of someone used to command. He handled his new role with a deftness that left Hadrian both jealous and in awe. 

“Are you in control of the web that much?” Antony asked curiously. “Aren’t there safety protocols that prevent you from doing that?”

Hadrian winked at Antony. “I’m good. You know that. There are still weird patches in the web that prevent my access, but overall, it’s basically open to me.”

“Pity the man who annoys you,” Antony laughed. “He might find his profile pictures changed to the most unflattering ones he has.”

“You joke,” Hadrian said darkly, “but people don’t really understand the extent of information they put out in public sometimes.”

The car stopped. “Well, we’re here,” Antony said. “You might not want to do anything that’ll embarrass yourself tonight. Lots of temptations in the city.” He helped Hadrian out of the carriage. 

Hadrian was ushered into a roar of controlled chaos, so different from the sleepy order of the Royal Quarters. The honking cars, the aggressive crowds –these sensations rushed at Hadrian. 

He saw people walking as if chased by the dogs of hell; took in the kaleidoscope of humanity present. There were traders from Lu’yang in their brightly colored jumpsuits, tourists from outer sectors wearing attire that were at least five years out of date in the capital, and elegant ladies from the Core Clusters. 

“Not too overwhelmed, are you?” Antony asked as he guided Hadrian through the mass of people to a building where workmen were repairing the façade. “It can be a lot.”

Hadrian shook his head. He actually didn’t mind. The atmosphere was electrifying, like being dropped into a stream of vivacity, and it was a welcome respite from the slow pace of life in the Royal Quarter. 

It was much like walking from a mausoleum into a busy thoroughfare – which in this case, was almost literally. 

“Where are we going?” Hadrian asked curiously. “What’s this?”

Antony grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

Two liveried doormen greeted them with a sharp salute, showing them into was a solidly decorated but undistinguished lobby. The elevator that whisked them up was creaky; Hadrian glanced nervously around as it clanged and whirled its way. 

It opened into a stunning vista of the city. Yung’an spread out gently before them, a rolling landscape of dazzling shapes. Traditional architecture sat side by side with modern constructions: pagodas shared the skyline with crystalline spires soaring to the stars. Yung’an did not build up, but out, sprawling into the farther limits of Hadrian’s vision. He could see lights on the highways, the arteries that fed into the metropolis like some shining bands. 

Hadrian looked away from the floor-to-ceiling window to see a hostess pleasantly smiling at him. 

“Let me show you to your seat, sir.” 

They followed. If she knew who Hadrian was, she gave no indication of it. All around were patrons, dressed in different styles but tied with the commonality of expensive and understated material. No flashing color, no bold jewelry – Hadrian guessed the exclusivity of the bar and the prime location that commanded such a breathtaking view was enough to impress anyone. 

The hostess seated them at a secluded table on the balcony, protected from the elements by a force-field humming unobtrusively. 

“It’s stunning,” Hadrian said once the hostess bowed her leave. “Come here often?”

“Some of my friends in the capital used to take me here when I visited,” Antony said. “I come here more for the view than the drinks, though I wouldn’t say the drinks are bad either.”

Hadrian nodded, perusing the menu. They were removed enough from the other patrons that the press of other people’s minds didn’t weigh so heavily. 

Even with the barrier muffling excess noise, tinkling wineglasses and soft laughter filtered through. Added to the spectacular view, and it was obvious this was the perfect spot to impress a lover. 

Hadrian didn’t mean to, but his imagination took over. The idea of Antony sitting here with another man, Antony drinking some deep-throated alcohol like whiskey and the man with a lighter, but equally sophisticated cocktail, grated at Hadrian. Of course this man would be perfect in every way, sharing a witty anecdote from his travels. And of course Antony would give that sexy low rumble of a laugh.

That sexy low rumble of a laugh rudely interrupted Hadrian’s voyeuristic visualization.

“I do find it rather appealing when you’re jealous,” Antony said, his expression full of mirth as he saw Hadrian’s imaginings. It was close to the sunset now, the sky gloriously aflame and dappled with white clouds. The light shone on the laugh lines around Antony’s eyes. “It’s kind of flattering.”

Hadrian glared, then broke off with a chuckle at himself. He recalled how Antony had tackled someone out of jealousy. Now some distance away from the emotional immediacy of the event, a little fire did burn in the bottom of his belly at Antony behaving so primitively. 

“We both been silly,” Hadrian said, laughing finally. “We’re here at this beautiful place, in the supposedly greatest city in the galaxy. We should enjoy it.”

“Indeed.” Antony’s lips curved into a smile. “We should.”

Hadrian coughed, choking on his water. That look – it was the first time Hadrian had seen it on Antony’s face, eyeing Hadrian as though he were some delectable meal. It provoked equally heated and inappropriate thoughts in Hadrian that made sitting here slightly uncomfortable. 

To center himself, Hadrian asked: “What do you recommend to drink here?”

Antony lifted his glass. “I’m having whiskey.”

Hadrian made a face. “Something else.”

“Well, I like their elderflower drink,” Antony said. “It’s light and relaxing.”

“Alright.” 

Their conversation flowed like the drinks: easy, comfortable, and soon Hadrian forgot how black his mood was earlier in the day. They talked about everything from Hadrian’s work with the web to the rebuilding of Fragrant Orbital. The refugees were gradually returning, helped by a boom in construction work and peace.

“It’s wonderful,” Antony said, his face bright. “And now that we’ve codified our autonomy with Dominion status, there’s no need for people to worry about displeasing some capricious noble here. Say, we’re also reworking our networks. Maybe when you’re finished here, you can come by and give our tech people a hand. I know your areas of interest include Old Dynasty technology. You can go take a look at that space fortress we found too.”

“Have you been back?” Hadrian asked. 

“Once, to guide one of our teams there. I believe your brother and the City Academy have cooperated to set up an onsite study there. It’ll be interesting to see what they find.”

“Yes, it would.” Hadrian thought of Incandescence. “Maybe they’ll find more Familiars.”

Antony laughed. “If they’re anything like yours, then we’ll be in trouble.”

“Quite so.” Hadrian sipped at his drink. Antony’s recommendation had been exactly to his taste. Hadrian wondered how, in so short a time, they had become so attuned to each other. Well, they were psions, they had an advantage. But even with that, it still astonished Hadrian how well they were in sync.

Perhaps it was good that they had managed to find some time apart, Hadrian thought as they wandered the city, taking in its sights. Any connection as intense as theirs was turning into came with the risk of turning that passion into exhaustion. And it did help Hadrian appreciate Antony more.

They stopped in the center of a park with a huge statue overlooking them. It was a small patch of greenery in the middle of a busy street. From what Hadrian saw, they were surrounded by restaurants and bars, with raucous customers spilling from door to door.

“I think I need to sit for a bit,” Hadrian said, easing onto one of the benches nearby. The heavier gravity took a great deal of strength, and they had been walking for some time. 

“I wonder who decided that this street needs a park,” Antony remarked as he sat next to Hadrian. “It doesn’t really seem to fit here, in the middle of all these bars. I mean, how does one enjoy nature when they’re blindingly drunk?”

“Like that man over there?” A large figure was at the entry of one of the bars, in what looked to be a heated argument between him and the barkeep. 

Hadrian’s smile faded as he took in what was happening. There were loud shouts; the sounds of general drunken revelry were laced with angry cries. Hadrian could sense the tension – even from this far, he could feel its angry press on his forehead like a physical presence.

Antony had detected it too. “Should we go see what’s wrong?” he asked.

Hadrian sighed. So much for a pleasant evening. “It’s probably some drunken brawl,” he said, but he stood up anyways. Maybe he’d see what drunken brawls in the so-called center of the galaxy looked like.

A crowd had formed around the two arguing. Hadrian’s breath stopped. The drunken man was a psion. Hadrian could almost hear the pulsing emotions radiating from him, it rang as shouting in his ears – 

So much pain -- so much fear – I just want to forget –

“You can’t drink anymore,” the barkeep yelled, his face flushed with anger. “You’re upsetting the other customers with your comments and your behavior!”

“Just one more,” the psion slurred, tripping on his own feet as he tried to push back in. Hadrian moved in to help, but an arm held him back.

He turned to see Antony shaking his head. 

Then he realized why: people in the crowd were muttering disapprovingly, shaking their heads at the psion. Hadrian received flashes of their mood – Who did these freaks think they are? Just because they occupied the city now doesn’t mean they can do whatever they want – After all the damage they caused, they still wanted special treatment –

Hadrian gritted his teeth, trying to shut them out. To him, it was obvious the psion was in distress, but to everyone else, the man was nothing but a public nuisance. 

“I said no!” The psion had made an ill-coordinated attempt to slip past the barkeep. The barkeep, having gotten fed up, shoved back.

The psion landed on the pavement with a painful crunch, his legs bending at an unnatural angle.

“What’s going on?” Two burly men in robes, armed with laser carbines, pushed past. Hadrian recognized them; they were members of his father’s Peacekeeping squad. 

The psion clutched his leg in pain as he moaned, while the barkeep glared defiantly at the two Peacekeepers. It was obvious to all what had happened, even to the two newcomers.

One of them grabbed the barkeep’s arm, almost wrenching it out of the man’s socket with his enhanced strength. 

“Alright,” he growled to the barkeep. “You’re coming with us.”

There was an outcry from the crowd. Hadrian saw them press forward, faces pulled with fury, as they tried to stop the two Peacekeepers from leaving with the barkeeper. 

“You can’t do that!” One of them, an old woman with a face lined like creased paper, glared at the Peacekeepers. Despite their stature dwarfing her wizened frame, she was equal to them in her fortitude. “What grounds are you taking him? He has a right to protect his property from drunken fools.”

“He’s hurt someone in broad daylight,” one of the Peacekeeper said. “We’re not letting someone hurt one of our own and get him get away with it.” Hadrian saw that there was an ambulance approaching, its lights flashing behind the crowd. The crowd surged, rippling as people blocked the car’s way. 

“You freaks are all the same,” the old woman sneered, not moving an inch. “Coming in with your ships and guns, causing a mess. It’s people like us that suffer from dealing with you, you know. But you’ll learn that you can’t just have your way with everything – you’re not taking that man without arresting the other one.”

One of the Peacekeeper’s face tightened while the other increased the force of his grip on the barkeeper’s arm. The barkeeper cried out in pain. 

Hadrian could sympathize with the psion on the floor, and he didn’t like the crowd’s attitude, but the Peacekeepers should have also understood the woman’s feelings were not entire illogical. They were empaths – they should have read her better.

Antony was still holding onto Hadrian’s arm, almost pulling him away.

“Move aside,” the Peacekeeper said again. “This is your final warning.”

The old woman crossed her arms. “No.”

The Peacekeeper raised his rifle – and fired.

The arc of white light hit her square in the chest. She fell, her face frozen as her body crumpled like paper onto the cement. 

“Be glad that we just used the stun setting,” the Peacekeeper said.

Hadrian was about wrench his arm free from Hadrian and walk up to the man with a lecture about appropriate force when he was knocked a side by an elbow. Another hit his mouth. He tasted coppery wetness.

The crowd had reacted to the Peacekeeper by running towards them, moving as one great organism with its sole animus rage and hostility to the two jackbooted figures of authority shooting down an old woman.

Hadrian couldn’t breathe with the intense hatred choking his every mental pathway; his heart thumped with his own fear. There was going to be a riot and he was about to be crushed by this angry mass of humanity –

A cool touch shielded Hadrian’s mind even as Antony pulled with enough force to dislocate his arm, preventing Hadrian from being caught in the middle of the crowd.

Both the Peacekeepers raised their rifles at the incoming crowd. “Stand back,” one of them – the one holding onto the barkeeper’s arm – said. The Peacekeeper displayed no signs of fear. “If you approach any closer, we won’t shoot to stun. We shoot to kill.”

Hadrian suffocated from the strain as the crowd stopped, wary, on edge. Each side stared down the other, daring the other to take the first step.

Then, finally, thankfully, someone shouted: “That trash isn’t worth dying for. Let’s go, men, and leave these freaks to their own business.”

It was as if a string that was pulled tight snapped. Angry mutterings broke into a general hubbub as the crowd looked at each other, as though waking from a bad dream. 

They dispersed, leaving one by one. No one seemed to pay much mind to old woman still lying on the ground, each intent on going as fast as they could, the courage that had bound them draining away into rational self-preservation. 

Hadrian still wanted to run up to the two Peacekeepers, who took the barkeeper away with visible relief in their footsteps. 

He knew the psion would be well taken care of by the medics. What he could not stand was how the Peacekeepers simply used brute force to silence the crowd. And the barkeeper might have been noxious, but his actions were understandable, even if he did overstep himself.

But Antony still held tight. 

“We need to go back to the Royal Quarter,” he said, and his tone brooked no room for argument. “Now.”

~~

“Why did you stop me!” Hadrian raged. Every sense of righteousness in him was violated — by the crowd, by the barkeep, by the psion. But most importantly, by his own father’s Peacekeepers. “We could have done something! Instead, you just pulled me back and we just — we —"

“You don’t want to get involved in that,” Antony said, his face grave. 

They had returned to the palace in a hurry and were now safely ensconced in Hadrian’s apartments. It was a luxuriously appointee set of rooms, with soft, airy furniture that was meant for comfort. Right now, they annoyed rather than soothed Hadrian. Hadrian wanted to rip out the stuffing of those damn goosefeather pillows. 

“I can’t believe those Peacekeepers just fired like that.” Hadrian fell back onto the couch, the aforementioned pillow twisted in his hands. “That lady was harmless — everyone knew that. She might have been a bitch, but it didn’t justify shooting her, even with the stun setting.”

Antony sat next to him. “I know it was upsetting,” he said carefully. “I know it was hard to witness, but those men were doing that they had to, too. They had no choice.”

Hadrian rounded on him. “What do you mean, they had no choice? They could have not shot the woman point-blank!”

“She was obstructing their work, Hadrian,” Antony said, patiently, as though he were explaining the concept of addition to a two-year-old. “What were they supposed to do?”

Hadrian could not believe Antony was defending their actions. “That woman was unarmed and frail. What threat could she have possibly posed to the Peacekeepers?”

“She refuse to move,” Antony said, still using that soft, reasonable voice that made Hadrian want to scream. “And you heard her – her contempt for them, for us. Are you really saying you feel sorry for her?”

“I – well – no –” Hadrian was not sure what his true thoughts were. They bubbled in his mind like some toxic chemical reaction, making him unable to process anything with clarity. “But there was that barkeeper too! You can’t just take someone away for no good reason. Even if he shoved that psion down on the floor, he didn’t know how the psion was feeling. He only wanted to protect his bar.”

“Actually, the entire planet is still under martial law,” Antony said. He had lost that rationale timbre he was speaking with, and he, too, sounded troubled. “I had expected it to be lifted – it has been relatively peaceful – and all the reports I’ve been receiving have mentioned how well the reordering has been going.”

Hadrian snorted. “Not well enough, apparently.” The two Peacekeepers walking the man away… Hadrian couldn’t shake the cold, determined look on their face, the smooth harshness with which they barricaded their minds.… He remembered the two secret police who had arrested him: they shared the same expression, the same silky intractability and single-mindedness of purpose….

He shook his head. Antony had stilled next to him on the bed.

“I’m sorry if it reminded you of that,” Antony said, sensing Hadrian’s emotions, and he had shed the well-meaning condescension from earlier. “But this is different. We know this man hurt someone, has caused a public disturbance. He was on the verge of causing a riot. You weren’t. Besides, you had reason to do what you did – it was a war. The war’s over now. If he has complaints, he should direct them to the city authorities. I’ve dealing with them. They’re eminently reasonable people.” He pulled Hadrian close. Hadrian stiffened, then melted against Antony’s arms.

He could not pinpoint the flaw in Antony’s argument, though he sorely wanted to. He was too emotional right now to think clearly.

So Hadrian accept Antony’s offer of solace, burrowing into the safety of his arms,

He eased his racing heart, letting Antony’s clean smell fill his sense, letting Antony hold him steady.

“I don’t want you to go,” Hadrian said, the sound muffled against Antony’s chest. “Can you stay a little bit longer? Don’t back to Fragrant Orbital so soon.”

Antony fidgeted. 

“What?”

“I – ahh, the reason why I’m in Yung’an isn’t just for you. Your father asked me to be the temporary commander for the Peacekeeping Corp.”

“What? But that’s Xander’s role right now.” Hadrian lifted his head, looked at Antony incredulously. “And you didn’t mention this to me the entire time we were together earlier?” A thought occurred to him. “Is that why you were defending the Peacekeepers?”

Antony tensed. “I hope you know me better than that.”

Hadrian did. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled his stomach sickened with the injustice of that accusation. “I’m not thinking clearly.”

Antony pressed his lips against the top of Hadrian’s head. “I don’t really blame you, he said, his breath tousling Hadrian’s hair. “It’s a logical conclusion. But I wasn’t even planning on accepting the offer. And I agree with you that the whole situation didn’t have to end up like what happened.” 

“What about now? Are you still going to refuse my father now?”

“I think I’ll accept,” Antony said. “It’s not a position that interests me and I have my own responsibility back home, but I think I can make it work somehow. It’s clear that the Peacekeepers are under tremendous strain and I think I can help. Also,” he gave Hadrian a playful bump, “I can spend more time with you.”

Hadrian laughed. It came out sounding slightly tired. “Don’t let my brother hear you say that. Or worse, my father. They’ll be convinced you’re shirking your duties because of me. And what if I decided not to stay on the planet? Didn’t you just invite me to Fragrant Orbital?”

“I’m planning to go back soon still,” Antony said. “Your brother told me he’s fine with being temporarily in charge until he receives his new assignment.” 

“If it means you get to stay with me, I don’t think I should complain.”

Antony grinned. “That’s more like it.” He pulled Hadrian down to the sheets and began kissing. 

Hadrian responded as Antony mouthed Hadrian’s neck, his ears, all the sensitive spots that had Hadrian arching in pleasure.

“Before I forget,” Antony said, pausing while his hand roamed up Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian grunted in impatience. “Your father’s going to want all mentions of what happened tonight gone. Think you can take care of that on the webs for me?”

The request made Hadrian uneasy. If they were so certain they were justified, shouldn’t they allow public discussion of the incident? But Hadrian also understood perception did not always accord with reality. 

“Alright.” The word tasted like ash in his mouth. “But only if you take off these hideous robes right now.”

Antony obliged. His bare chest was hot through Hadrian’s fingers. He grinned wickedly at Hadrian. 

“Trying to bribe me with sexual favors?” He pinned Hadrian against the headboard. “I might have to punish you for that.”

Hadrian’s retort became lost as his lips were devoured by a hunger that left no room for anything else.


	6. Chapter 6

TWO YEARS LATER:

He breathed the clean smell of the trees, enjoying the prickle of grass under his hands.

Yung’le was a beautiful world, if slightly odd. The moon of Yung’an, it orbited in a ten-hour cycle around the planet. It was a verdant wonderland of rustic simplicity, filled with pastel hues and sloping meadows. Hadrian suspected it had been terraformed; true nature rarely so accommodated human aesthetics and habitability. 

It would make sense. For as long as anyone could remember, Yung’le had served as the private retreat for the royal family, from the Old Dynasty to the Protectorate. And now for the psions. 

Hadrian’s father had opened Yung’le to psions from any Clan who wished to visit the fabled pleasure world of the emperors, the indulgences of whom had become legend. The moon was the subject of many poems and even more polemics.

Hadrian understood the temptation to luxuriate in these idyllic surroundings. He scratched Incandescence’s ears. She purred.

“It’s no wonder your father prefers it here to the planet,” she said. She had been rolling in the field, and blades of grass stuck to her fur. Their ship was to the side, its hull gleaming dully amidst the pastoral scenery. 

Hadrian wondered if tensions with the locals also played a role in his father’s preference for Yung’le. Though no full-scale violence had happened, there had been several nasty altercations. Relationships had been improving, however, with Hadrian’s brother taking the lead to foster friendlier ties.

Hadrian wasn’t surprised. The people loved Xander, the handsome prince, the dashing hero who delivered them from the Protector’s yoke. The residents of Yung’an might view psions with suspicion, but they still remembered the deprivation and fear of the old regime. It was helped by a general lifting of restrictions; victims had rushed to air their grievance suffered under the Protector, though Lord Julius had limited its extent. Hadrian had his misgivings, but he had to admit his father had done well with governing the vast galactic empire he had won. It remained peaceful and prosperous for the most part, with the loyalists to the Protector all either imprisoned or killed. 

But his father had pushed reforms only so far. 

The old laws against sedition and treason remained, with harsh penalties on the flimsiest of pretenses. Hadrian thought it rather specious, when it gave the government extraordinary powers in these incidents when regular police action was all that was necessary. 

One case stuck in Hadrian’s mind. There had been a protest against the forced occupation of a planet to build a military outpost for one of the Clans. The instigators were imprisoned for ten years. The look of their ten-year-old daughter as her parents were taken away still haunted Hadrian. 

Secret surveillance surrounded those his father considered enemies of the psions. The psions controlled all communication and financial networks; their reach ran deep, however hard the ones being watched tried to hide. 

Hadrian doubted some of those on the list were plotting anything nefarious. They were clumsy and vocal, advocates for changes Hadrian thought unlikely they knew the implications of, but that didn’t amount to any crime. They were moving past the need for harshness now; Hadrian knew that his father had consolidated his authority. Even if malcontents remained, they no longer posed threats to his father. There were no place for secret polices and repressive measures.

Hadrian only hoped his father realized that.

“You’re so serious,” Incandescence said. “Don’t think of politics right now. You should learn to enjoy and relax. I do – it’s one of the joys of being sentient.”

Hadrian laughed. She was right – he should try and forget these. But such a tranquil setting left a lot of room for thoughts. 

Too much. 

“If you’re so worried about it, you can bring it up later at the Convocation,” Incandescence said. “I’m sure others will share your concern too.”

Hadrian personally thought that even if they did, they probably would hesitate to voice it out of fear or deference to authority. It was difficult confronting his family – Hadrian had personal experience. 

He stretched out on the field, letting the zephyr caress his face. The sun shone, its rays snug on his skin, and he could just make out the outline of Yung’an in the distance. Incandescence hopped on his chest; Hadrian let out a little ‘oof’ at the impact. She curled up, a comforting ball settling on him. 

It was hard to hold onto his misgivings like this … Hadrian allowed himself to drift, rest, lulled by the serenity….

A foot nudged him none too gently. 

Hadrian groaned and peeked one eye open. 

“What? What do you want?”

“Stop napping,” Xander said. He towered over Hadrian, scowling. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the meeting?”

“That’s not for another two hours,” Hadrian said. He laid back down again. “Besides, I never talk at these things.” Then again … perhaps he should. Voice some of the worries he had about his father’s policies. 

“You have a seat in the Convocation,” his brother said sternly. “You really should be more responsible.”

“I attend every major session,” Hadrian said defensively. “Besides, it’s not as I do much. You always vote for me anyways.”

Membership in the Convocation, the ruling body of the psions, had previously served only as a formality; it was only open to those psions who had Bonded with a Familiar, and was regarded as a mark of distinction, but nothing further. Governance had always devolved to the Clan Heads and their staff. 

But now, with the psions’ newfound role in the galaxy, the Convocation had taken on new significance as a forum for deliberation, coinciding uneasily with the old power structure of the Protectorate. The Protector had no need for such an institution when he ruled by fiat, with all decisions implemented by his servants.

Hadrian thought his seat in the Convocation rather superfluous. He had no active role and rarely attended, content to allow his brother to cast his vote by proxy. But his father had insisted that his children demonstrate at least some semblance of interest. Hadrian also suspected that his father wanted others to know his family presented a united front. 

“Xander?” he asked suddenly. “What do you think about all this?”

Xander was eyeing Incandescence, who stared back with equal wariness. He started. “What do I think about what?”

“All of this.” Hadrian waved a general arm at their surroundings. “At having all these new responsibilities, at being pushed into a role that has power over so many lives.”

“We’ve always had responsibilities and duties, Hadrian,” his brother said, remaining standing over him. Xander would never be so plebian as sit in the grass. “Even before we assumed guardianship of the galaxy, we were responsible for so many lives. Do you think the deep space colonies would have survived without us scouting that volume of space? Do you think the outer sectors would survive if it weren’t for our node connections? The modern economy would collapse without our ability to communicate instantaneously. You’ve seen the disruption done to the Cluster Colonies. We’ve always had the responsibility to ensure the galaxy didn’t degenerate into isolated pockets. Now we’re just more visible about our role.”

Xander was right: there was no point in concealing their importance anymore. But: “Do you really think we should be dealing with the detractors so harshly? Can we really justify these measures? These people are no threat to us, and they have a right to be themselves.”

Xander met Hadrian’s eyes. “Are you still thinking about that incident two years ago? About the woman who was stunned? We live in a dangerous world, Hadrian. We need to be strong, and maintaining that strength requires resources and the will to demonstrate we won’t hide from any threats. If we don’t, what do you think will happen? Challengers will rise, and the galaxy will be thrown into chaos again.”

He sighed. “Do I wish we live in a gentler world? Of course. But we don’t. And we won’t survive if we refuse to make harsh choices.”

Hadrian had no good response to that. His brother was right – the upheaval and suffering were still fresh, the scars of which still tormented him. 

“Couldn’t there be a middle way?” he asked quietly, trying to stand. His legs had grown numb from lying down so long. “One where we can be strong but without being harsh? Where showing a gentler side doesn’t necessarily signal weakness.”

His brother caught his arm, helped him up. “That’s the ultimate prize,” he said. He smiled a little wistfully. “If we had that, I think we wouldn’t be in so much conflict all the time, will we?” 

Hadrian looked at his brother. “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to find it. In fact, we should try even harder to come up with a solution.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Xander said with a little smile. He looked his younger brother “I’m glad to see that you’ve grown up.”

~~

Psions all over the galaxy were in attendance. Thousands of Convocation delegates were present, some taking their seats in the balconies of the great amphitheater, others appearing as holographic simulacra, joining the session from lightyears away through their Familiar connections. 

Pandemonium reigned as aides ferried paperwork back and forth while the psions themselves were in boxes attached to great mechanical arms that would move them to the center if they wished to speak. Floating cams dotted the hall, projecting those the ones who wished to remain stationary to address the Convocation to the great holoscreen in the center. It was also a convenient way for Lord Julius and his staff to keep an eye on the delegates. 

Despite its great size, every box was filled. Some of those who participated were leading expeditions into uncharted volumes of space; others were on distant postings as garrison commander and political residents with the local sector government. Agents with the various galactic corporations that depended on the psions’ for reliable communications also partook in the meeting. 

Hadrian observed his peers on his console. It wasn’t technically legal, but he had been able to infiltrate the recording system of the building. It was at his father’s request that he did so – Lord Julius had wanted his son to monitor the private negotiations between the psions, the horse-trading between various Clans, the cajoling by lobbyists who tried to make their influence felt even as they were denied formal representation. 

Most of it amounted to nothing, petty bribery at the most. Hadrian was not surprised to discover that the rest of the psions were in awe of his father, at his great feats of arms and his accomplishment in winning them an empire. He was the symbol of their unity and newfound potency, and it gave him adulation that bordered on worship. 

But Hadrian also appreciated why his father would want to know the nuances of the Convocation’s interactions. It was the only body capable of forming coherent opposition to him should it choose to do so.

So Hadrian watched, alternatively bored and fascinated by the minutiae of politics. 

There didn’t seem to be any matter of particular importance today. Most of it centered on whether to expand their presence in the Hsin Quadrant, a newly uncovered region of space that the exploring mission had postulated held untapped sources of platinum (the Convocation voted a tentative yes), and whether to increase oversight of the various government bureaus of the ministry. 

A hush fell as his father moved to the center. 

“My friends,” Lord Julius said, his voice echoing. It was deep and compelling, a voice that could persuade by its mere resonance. “We stand on the cusp of a new age. As the Preceptor of the known galaxy, I have no greater honor and no heavier burden than to guide the people in the ways of our ancestors.

But our efforts have been stymied by the entrenched interests that oppose this government’s policies, and factions in society that desire a return to the chaos that prevailed before our guardianship. I support the increased oversight by the Psion Clans and the Convocation over the ministry.”

Well, that left no question as to the result of the vote. Hadrian waited for the Convocation’s Chairwoman to begin the ballot, drumming his fingers impatiently. 

She didn’t. With a start, Hadrian realized someone else was going to speak, his box swinging to the center, into the full view of the Convocation. 

It was one of his father’s officers. The man’s name eluded Hadrian. But it was the content of his speech which grabbed Hadrian’s full attention. 

The man was proposing in addition to the added oversight of the ministry by the Convocation, the Convocation also institute an Internal Stability Act that granted the Preceptor and his Peacekeeping Corp power to enforce preventive detention, prevent subversion, suppress organized violence against persons and property, and otherwise protect the stability of the Empire.

Hadrian thought it was ludicrous. The war was over; there were no threats to the stability of the galaxy. People were prospering in peace. The man’s suggestion that they were on the precipice of anarchy was weaved with such falsehoods and innuendo that Hadrian could not stay silent any longer.

He tapped his console to let the Chairwoman he wished to speak.

There was a surprised hush as his box pushed to the center. Even at this distance, their disbelief rippled through his mind. Hadrian never spoke. He could see the consoles light up as the delegates tuned in, intrigued by what Hadrian had to say.

Hadrian took a deep breath. Only now did he realize the immensity of what he was doing. Eyes stared down at him, not hostile but certainly not friendly. He wished Antony was by his side. But Antony had pressing business on the Orbital and did not even bother to take part through Familiar connection. Hadrian wished Incandescence was here, but she seemed to share his dislike of large gatherings and was at the lake in the small garden trying to catch the koi. 

Hadrian began by pointing out the inaccuracies in the previous speaker’s argument, using his console to send the other delegates documented evidence disproving that there was an increase in political violence directed at the psions. He pointed out that under his father’s rule, people were generally content, and while dissatisfaction existed, as it did with all governments, the response should not be more control, but rather responding to the underlying root of the issue.

He could see his father and brother watching from the tier above him. It was too far to make out their expressions, and Hadrian was definitely unable to sense their emotions. But he continued determinedly, despite a pounding that blasted his ears.

“What we should be doing is listen to the people,” Hadrian said, aware that even the most disinterested was listening now. It was rare that someone publicly spoke against the Preceptor’s wishes. It was unheard of that the one doing so be his own son. “As guardians of our people, we must be responsive to their needs. We cannot tighten our grip when we meet opposition. We cannot choke our opponents into submission – rather, relax our hold so they can breathe and speak. And we have to hear what their own words. This is why I oppose the proposed Internal Stability Act.”

An uproar greeted his words. Hadrian could feel the undercurrents of the debate shift. He had no idea which way they went, only that he was swept up in the tide. 

He closed his eyes. It was now or never. He opened his mouth. “In fact, I move that we repeal the old laws against sedition and treason. They are a redundancy in this age of enlightened rule.” He gave an acknowledging nod to his father. Hadrian could see no reaction from that direction. “We should be opening our society so we can hear the truth, not the other way.”

There was a beep on his console as he moved back. But it was too late; the turmoil had been unleased. Even as the Chairwoman called for order against the general din of debates, Hadrian saw that he had received a message from his brother. It warned him that their father was displeased. 

Hadrian could imagine what his father had to say. He would belittle Hadrian’s naivety, his dangerous ideas, and the betrayal of his kind. But Hadrian didn’t care anymore; holding his tongue violated the deep sense of right he had in his gut. He could face his father’s disapproval; he’d done it before. 

But he could not face remaining silent any longer. 

The noise gradually subsided as the Chairwoman recorded the vote. Hadrian looked on with clenched jaws and balled fist as the Internal Stability Act became law. It was a closer margin than anyone had expected – it was a closer margin than it would have been if Hadrian had not spoken – but Hadrian had failed anyways.

Hadrian tried to calm himself, trying to convince himself it was better that he had spoken his conscience, even if the result did not favor him. But a deeper part screamed at him for having risked so much and misjudged so spectacularly. Hadrian would likely be summoned by his father for a tongue-lashing after this.

Lord Julius’s box moved to the center again.

“I am glad this august body sees reason and has chosen the right course to ensure continued prosperity of our great civilization,” he said. “Rules and hierarchy underpin our society; order brings harmony, without which there can only be disaster.” His head seemed to turn in Hadrian’s direction. Hadrian swallowed.

“I propose this body censure my son for his naivety,” Lord Julius said. “And it is clear that his inexperience makes him unsuitable for continued attendance. I hereby invoke my ancient right as the Head of his Clan to remove his seat. He will be allowed to return once he has gained a better understanding of the world.”

Hadrian slumped back into his seat as the Chairwoman called for order against the renewed commotion.

~~  
Hadrian stared at his console blankly, unable to process a character on the screen. Incandescence sat by his side, for once subdued and solemn. 

The aftermath of the last Convocation still reverberated. The body had never censured a member before, except in cases of severe wrongdoing. And no psion had been unseated by the Head of his Clan, though their right to do so existed. 

The vote of condemnation had passed, though on an even closer amount than the Internal Stability Act. Even those were in support of the new law were shocked by so vindictive a use of the Clan Head’s privileges. It was an unwritten rule that Convocation members enjoyed virtually unlimited freedom of speech in debate.

But, Hadrian smiled grimly to himself, it was not codified, nor was so engrained that violating it was anathema. It was merely a custom, and the Convocation had not met in decades – most only had the vaguest sense that some obscure norm had been violated. It did not translate into any collective outrage. 

Hadrian was angry. More than that, he hurt. The humiliation of being scolded so publicly and treated so coldly – his father had not even given the courtesy of a private message – tore at Hadrian. He wanted to rage, to break something.

Instead, he moved out of the palace. He needed to be away from his family. 

He found an apartment near city center in a newly constructed high-rise overlooking a canopy of trees below. It was smaller than his palace suites but just as elegant. It was in one of the buildings owned by the Cheungs; Hadrian could not cut off all contact with other psions. And Antony had offered it to him at a reduced rate.

Hadrian had never considered the implication of estrangement with his family; it was unthinkable, given the patriarchal and near-autocratic control the Clan Head had over his blood. His brother had visited the apartment on the second day of Hadrian leaving the Royal Quarter, with a message from his father demanding he return.

Hadrian had stoutly refused. His father had only belatedly realized the implication of such a public rift; the gesture, such as it were, was calculated and political rather than out of any paternal love. Hadrian had his pride to buffer against his fear of Lord Julius’ wrath. 

Hadrian did wish Antony was here. Antony, though unable to support him openly given the nature of the schism, provided an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on. With him, Hadrian forgot the pain of rejection and disgrace at simply trying to live up to his conscience.

He didn’t demand Antony agree with him. He knew Antony partially did not, anyways, not from his perspective as the Commander of the Peacekeepers. But they skirted the subject when they were together, and only mentioned Hadrian’s situation obliquely when they were alone in the apartment.

They did not used to be like this. Hadrian remembered the intensity of their mental bond, how naked and comfortable they were with each other. They couldn’t share that anymore, their new roles and awareness about the world pulling them towards different axes. 

They still loved each other, and Hadrian missed Antony the most at times like these, when Antony returned to Fragrant Orbital for his duties as the Cheung Heir. Despite their differences, their affection and physical need for each other burned as hot as ever, and Hadrian wished the space next to his pillow was not empty and cold when he woke.

He filled his time throwing himself into his work on the webs. Despite his falling out and the ensuing scandal, others still asked for his help to strength their web security. It was likely his appeal increased now that they knew he would no longer report to his father about the slightest infraction. 

Not that Hadrian ever would, or that there ever was a need to. His father had his own network of spies that was just as competent as Hadrian, with the advantage of complete loyalty, something which Hadrian apparently did not share. 

Ironically, the client right now was a government department, the Bureau of Public Works. Hadrian had been tempted to tell them they could simply ask his fathers’ people, but he refrained. Besides, they paid a handsome retainer. Even at a discounted rate, the rent for the apartment did not come cheap. 

At least he did not have to use department’s machines. Hadrian gagged at the memory of how awful the government consoles were.

His console beeped. Even with a faster processor, it was still a pain to log into the system. Perhaps that would be next on Hadrian’s list to streamline.

He closed his eyes, concentrating. His hand stilled on Incandescence’s flank as they dropped into the virtual reality of the network. 

It was dark, interrupted with flickers of light that Hadrian knew to be activities on the computer networks. 

A door appeared in front of him. One without a handle.

What’s this? he asked Incandescence. 

I don’t know, she replied. I think the information beyond that is secured. It’s a good system – it’s hard even for me to crack.

Hadrian squinted at it. The door seemed to absorb what little brightness there existed in the simulation; Hadrian had never experienced that before when he used this method of accessing the webs.

I haven’t either, Incandescence said. You humans usually don’t have processes this sophisticated. 

Hadrian stifled his snort. You were created by humans too, he reminded her. Just ones who seemed to know what they were doing more than us.

Except they’re gone now and you’re still here, Incandescence said. 

That was true. For all their advancement, the Old Dynasty failed at what really mattered: surviving. But their legacy was permanent, leaving an indelible mark on their current civilization. Part of his father’s own claims to power rested on the fact that psions were the Old Dynasty’s direct descendants, molded to particular specifications for some unknown purpose. 

Perhaps you were made by them too, Incandescence said, just as much as we Familiars were. Maybe you were supposed to be just a much of a tool as we were supposed to be.

That was an uncomfortable thought to consider. Hadrian held onto his humanity like an anchor in this knot of a world, with its unclear morality and tortured relationships with people. He only had the conviction that he was more than an instrument for others that preserved his sense of dignity. It was why he objected so publicly. 

Hadrian set the idea aside. Whatever laid beyond this intrigued him. It didn’t seem pertinent to his current project, but one never knew what kinds of bugs and glitches could be caused by these interrelated systems.

How do you think we can open it? he asked Incandescence. She had no form; her consciousness and his shared a single space. Technically, all of this was her mind, her computer Core interpreting the data from the machine, and the images only created by Hadrian to comprehend what he was seeing. 

It was powerful but exhausting, as it was with anything related to the psion-Familiar link. There were bioaugmentations that helped, but they involved too many alterations to the brain that only the bravest undergone them. Despite their extensive enhancements, most psions were still wary of playing with their neural chemistry. 

Run Program C, Hadrian thought. 

He designed Program C himself to highlight weaknesses in computer programs. It was useful, both as a diagnostic tool, and as means for him to find backdoors into these networks. 

Nothing happened. Hadrian scowled. Maybe he should revisit this later, after he finished what he needed to work on.

But wait – the resolution increased as the darkness receded slightly. The door was still black, but it appeared in finer detail and Hadrian could see the grains in the wood. 

They were actually loopholes in the program. Even as they showed themselves, they darkened again, until the gradations in color disappeared and the door returned to its original state.

Hadrian watched as the process repeated itself several times before understanding what happened. The shroud that protected this door used data from other systems to disguise its own presence in the networks. It hid in plain sight, masquerading as the background.

Hadrian doubted any other web hackers would realize it was there. Even other psions lacked the ability to “experience” computer networks this way; it was related to his connection with Incandescence and the loss of his bioaugmentation, how it had sped up the integration between his mind and his Familiar’s. 

Stop power to program, he thought. Hadrian directed the command at the door itself, bringing all his concentration to focus on a single point. 

His order separated the door and the darkness. Now it was solid oak, plain and stolid.

And thick. Hadrian looked at it, thinking that brute force would not be able to break it down.

But there was a handle now. 

He fashioned his consciousness into the faintest sliver, no thicker than a single thread, and slipped it into the opening of the lock. 

There was the cyber equivalent of a snick as it released, and the door swung wide open.

Hadrian blinked, exiting out of cyberspace. Next to him, incandescence stretched. Her wide orange eyes surveyed him. 

“So are you planning on doing any actual work today?” she asked. “Or are you just going to trawl around looking at databases you don’t have clearance for?”

“How do you know I don’t have clearance? I could, you know. They’re consulting me on web security; I might need to redesign the whole damn thing after all.”

She flexed her claws. They caught the afternoon light streaming in through the window. “Not with the way that database was protected. I doubt anyone has clearance. Certainly not a ne’er do well son that had just had a public row with his father.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” Hadrian said. The ache smarted at her reminder, but it dulled when he considered the intriguing secrets before him. It was like the old days, before the revolution, before the fallout with his father, when he had simply pursued knowledge for its own sake. 

“I’m going to go walk around the rooftop garden,” she said. “I reckon you’ll be absorbed on your console for the rest of the day?”

“Don’t scare anyone,” Hadrian called as she left. The last time they were at the rooftop, Incandescence had responded to a question his neighbor directed at him, shocking the poor man half to death. They didn’t know she was a Familiar or that he a psion; Hadrian had asked Antony to lease the apartment under an assumed identity. 

He smiled to himself. He shouldn’t laugh but the woman’s reaction had been hilarious. 

His amusement faded as he scrolled through the files. 

It detailed the findings of Old Dynasty technology that the Protectorate had uncovered, through what seemed like decades of efforts, from dissections on captured psions to archaeological digs of known ruins to analysis of surviving documents. Hadrian saw a mention of the space fortress near the Fragrant Orbital that he and Antony had found. 

He swallowed. 

It was a treasure trove of knowledge, one gathered with appalling ruthlessness. Some of the reports were undersigned by Wang Yibiao — his hands gripped the chair’s arms so hard they spasmed — and explained the experimentation done on some of the captives. 

The most extensive research were on the use of androids, the same ones that had crewed the battleliners. Hadrian remembered the one that he met in person in use by Wang. The blank mind, the emotionless static when Hadrian tried to probe its mind, all these memories came back to Hadrian with a bitter rush. 

Hadrian could not tear his eyes away, propelled by an awful fascination as he saw that they continued with the trials, testing the combination of human minds with forma bodies. It was still a volatile mix, the androids given to bouts of violence and mental instability, but when it worked, they displayed better reactions. The author of the report postulated that adding Familiar consciousness might steady their psyches. 

It concluded that more live subjects were needed and recommended some of the damaged Familiar cores be used. 

There was a postscript noting which prisons had an overflow of inmates to supply these specimens. 

He read on. There were more recent uploads, timestamped after the fall of the Protector. 

Hadrian backed away from his console with such speed his knee bumped into the table, banging it painfully and knocking over a lamp. 

He almost didn’t notice. His mind still revolted at what he discovered, his stomach churning sickly. 

He could not believe it. It had to be fake. Revulsion filled him – he could see Wang Yibiao’s face leering before his very eyes, taunting him as he screamed–

What are you doing? 

Incandescence’s cross voice mercifully interrupted him. Hadrian tried to steady his breathing, collecting himself before he responded.

I didn’t mean to disturb you, he thought to her. 

Well, you did, she snapped. I was chasing this really fat squirrel. She sent an image from her mind. 

Hadrian gave a weak smile. I’m sorry. Go back to chasing it, he told her. 

Well, now it’s gone. Her thought took on a huffy quality. So tell me what’s wrong or I’ll come back and bite you.

Hadrian opened his mind to her, showing her everything he had just found. He could feel her agitation increasing with her shock as she read through. 

Gods, what had they found? Hadrian could tolerate cruelty used as a weapon for a greater good; he could accept harsh measures that had a purpose, even if he hated himself after, but this went beyond all pale of legality and decency. 

He powered off the console, as if not seeing the bare facts so plainly laid out in characters and charts would change themselves, make them less real. But the blank screen in front of him only forced him to rake every gory detail over again….

Incandescence appeared at his elbow, startling Hadrian. He hadn’t even realized the door had opened. 

“What are you going to do?”

Hadrian stilled his shuddering mind. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Is this even real? Who the hell is this monster?” Even as he said that, he knew that one didn’t have to be a monster to act monstrously. And even as he spoke, he recalled the flinty hardness in his father … Lord Julius would justify this as necessary, to protect the interest of his unyielding view of the universe. 

Incandescence spoke softly: “You know it is. There’s no doubt about what you found. It isn’t just some ramshackle conspiracy theorist on the web.”

“So what do we do?” Hadrian looked at her helplessly. “I know it has something to do with father. He’s letting it continue, or someone he trusts is. If I reveal this, what would it do to us? We’ve only just achieved peace. Can I really sacrifice that?”

The revelation would tear the psions apart. Some would undoubtedly use this as evidence against Hadrian’s, and Hadrian had to admit it was suspicious that a man so in control of everything would not know what his officers were doing. But others would believe Hadrian’s father. Chaos would fight, either out of idealistic principles or to exploit the opening for greater power. 

Either way, the hard-fought peace and tenuous stability would shatter; the shrapnel would wound everyone, even bystanders. Especially bystanders.

But Hadrian couldn’t just ignore this. 

Could he?

Before Hadrian could even begin to think of an answer to his question, his doorbell rang.

Hadrian tensed. He hadn’t even bothered to cover his tracks and conceal his trail. What if this one was one of his father’s security people coming for him?

A convulsion tore at his heart at the idea. He could absorb the coldness, the disapproval, but the notion that his father would sanction an arrest of his son stabbed Hadrian more than any of their arguments. 

“It’s Antony,” Incandescence said, peering at the door monitor. “You better let him in. Are you going to tell him?”

“No.” Not until Hadrian decided what he would do with this knowledge. It cut him to conceal this, but what if Antony knew about this? The Antony he knew would never sanction this, but then Antony was hard-nosed and pragmatic, far more than Hadrian could ever make himself be. If he thought this was in the best interests for the psions to have access to this sort of technology ….

Hadrian didn’t want to confront that possibility.

“Sorry,” Hadrian said to Antony waiting patiently at the door. “I was sleeping. You know me; takes a bit of time for me to fully get my bearings after I wake up.”

Antony leveled a glance at him. “Are you alright? You seem a little … strange.”

“I’m fine.” Hadrian pasted his most casual smile on. “Only slightly confused. You interrupted my nap, you know.” 

The lies came so easily now, flowing like liquid, and Hadrian despised himself for it. When had they reached such a stage that it was easier to deceive than confide in each other?

Hadrian was careful to shield his emotions, allowing only joy at seeing Antony through. At least that was genuine. He missed Antony. And even now, just standing in the doorway, Antony evoked a fierce desire that burned like wildfire in him.

He leaned in, giving Antony a deep kiss that left both of them gasping for air.

Antony grinned while Hadrian broke off to let the blood flow again. “I guess you missed me.” His hands were still on Hadrian’s waist, his thumbs hooked above the curve of Hadrian’s back, warm and teasing. 

“How was Fragrant Orbital?” Hadrian didn’t give a damn about Fragrant Orbital when Antony’s hands ran up his back in the most erotic way.

“It was fine,” Antony said, guiding Hadrian by the hand to his bedroom. “Now, how about a proper welcome?”

They fell into bed, ripping off their clothes with haste, Hadrian driven by a desperate urge to touch, to feel the muscled back, the firm shoulders, to experience that peak of ecstasy that would wipe away, even for a moment, all the world’s worries.

~~  
They laid next to each other, Hadrian’s sheets thrown carelessly over himself. One arm still stroked Antony’s chest, luxuriating in the feel of him while Antony leaned against the pillow. 

There was soft padding at the door. Hadrian tensed.

“Relax,” Antony said. “It’s only Incandescence.” He gave Hadrian a curious look. “Feeling shy today, are we?”

Incandescence jumped onto the bed. “Where’s Luminosity?” she asked. “Is she in orbit?”

“No, she’s here,” another voice said. The silver fox stuck her head through the doorway. “Is it safe to enter now?”

“Most definitely,” Incandescence said. “Hadrian has rather bad stamina. After a session like this, he won’t be up again for at least –”

“Thank you,” Hadrian said hastily, his face reddening. “Yes, you can come in. When did you get in? I didn’t see you with Antony.”

“I was right behind,” Luminosity said, eyeing Hadrian with a bemused expression. “You two were too busy to notice little me at the moment.” Hadrian hoped she wouldn’t come on the bed too. It was already beginning to feel crowded. 

Antony shifted. “I should get up and shower,” he said. He gave both Familiars an exaggerated bow. “If you two don’t mind? Unless you would like to stay, of course.”

“You know, I can take a hint,” Luminosity said, walking to the door, all nine of her tails up with injured pride. “You don’t have to be rude, you know.” She looked at Incandescence. “You coming? I was thinking of visiting the terrace gardens.”

“I like the rooftop gardens myself,” Incandescence said. “But I’ll come in a bit. I want to enjoy the warmth a little bit more.”

“Suit yourself.” Incandescence settled onto Hadrian’s lap as both Antony and Luminosity left the room, Antony to the ensuite bathroom, Luminosity in the other direction.

Are you going to tell him? Incandescence’s thought was clear as a bell. I assume now that you got sex out of your system, you’ll be thinking clearly. 

She had opted for the security of a mental link in case Antony overheard. It was possible: his augmented hearing might pick up a spoken conversation even over the running water that was now sounding. 

Hadrian hated how he had to keep this from Antony. But he had no choice. Worry that had been banished momentarily now flowed back, stronger than ever; Hadrian could depend on no one else until he had a better control of the situation. 

I think you should tell him, Incandescence said. He’s not your enemy, he’s your lover. I’ve seen the two of you together, and I have analyzed his behavior. It’s unlikely that he knows about the experimentation programs and even less plausible that he will betray you.

Still. In contrast to the clear rationality of Incandescence’s thoughts, Hadrian’s mind was a bog of uncertainty. I’m not as worried about that as I am about involving him. If he doesn’t know about it, which I acknowledge is likely true, if I tell him, Antony is going to be involved. And I don’t want him to get hurt.

But if he finds out you’ve been keeping this from him, he’ll be hurt anyways, she said. 

Hadrian threw off the covers, suddenly constricted and hot and itchy. There were no good choices here. Either way, he might end up harming the man he love. And still, even despite his professed faith in Antony, there was that nagging suspicion that chafed at the back of all these considerations. 

No. He decided. He wouldn’t tell Antony. Not just yet. Not until he had more physical evidence and an actual plan of action. Hadrian knew he likely would need help later on – he wouldn’t be able to do anything himself, certainly not with a conspiracy on this vast scale. This involved money -- lots of it -- manpower, and dedication, along with access to secured information spanning both the current government and the old Protectorate. Hadrian needed more time. 

Incandescence didn’t look happy with Hadrian’s conclusion. She was about to argue when Antony came out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping wet.

“Still here?” he asked Incandescence. “I thought you’d be off with Luminosity wreaking havoc in the building by now.”

She bestowed upon him a look, one long and hard, and for a second Hadrian feared that she would tell him anyways about what they had learned. Then she swatted at him.

“I’m only warning Hadrian here that he might get a few irate webmail from the neighbors tomorrow,” she said while Antony suckled where her claws had broken skin. Then she jumped off the bed and left the room.

“You sure you’re alright?” Antony asked. He settled down on the edge. 

“I am,” Hadrian said. “It’s just been a transition for both of us. You know.” He shrugged. 

Antony’s gaze softened. “I know it’s difficult right now. But your father will come around. Your brother told me to check in on you. He’s worried about you.”

“Then he should have come by himself,” Hadrian said, and his voice was harsh, even to his ears. Xander … despite their differences, Hadrian loved his brother. He didn’t want to think Xander was involved in the human experimentations too. 

But at least Antony mistook Hadrian’s brooding for angst over his ouster. It was a logical conclusion; though it had been weeks, the repercussion of such a rupture was not so easily healed. Scars remained. 

“Let’s not talk about it,” Hadrian said, forestalling Antony. “So what do you want to do now that you’re back? I thought maybe we can go see the arcade or something.”

Antony smiled, a beam of sunshine breaking up the gloom of Hadrian’s mood. “I’d like that.” 

They went to the arcade, Hadrian beating Antony at the flight simulator but Antony winning the shooting contest. He handed Hadrian the grand prize, an enormous plush elephant. They walked down the street, Hadrian struggling to balance the giant toy, ignoring the yowls as its trunk smacked passing pedestrians, Hadrian wishing he could hold on to this brief halcyon happiness. 

~~

Hadrian revisited that database in the network to erase traces of his last visit and search for clues. He succeeded at the first task but failed at the second. Hadrian had found nothing substantive, no leads that he could act on. 

Perhaps his father had shut down the program. Perhaps it was never really his to begin with, and there was a secret cabal of Protectorate loyalists that still had access to the government network. Or maybe this was all a test, a prank for all the various hackers who coveted classified knowledge, to hand something so outlandish to them. 

Ack. All this conjecture made his head spin. It was no use trying to reason away the facts, and no use in attempting to fit the motivations of those involved with outlandish theories. 

But now Hadrian had to figure out what to do. He rubbed his eye; his sight was blurry from staring at the screen too long and his back stiff from hours not moving. He hadn’t used the simulated mode to enter cyberspace this time. It consumed too much of his physical and mental strength, and Hadrian wasn’t sure of how the traces would show up in the system. Besides, it wasn’t necessary. 

What Hadrian did need was a plan. Whatever course of action he might take – confront his father, expose the secret human experimentation program to the public, secretly sabotage it – he needed to know at least one of these laboratories or facilities were. 

But how? He drummed his hand on the wooden table. None of these sites were named in any of the reports, at least not overtly. Hadrian could check again, but it was just as likely that this was on a different network of whatever gods-forsaken world that hosted them. it would be an additional security and redundancy measure: Hadrian had no way to access off-world data. At least, not one explicitly connected by a Familiar. 

Hadrian wondered if the Old Dynasty had one interconnected mesh instead of this hodgepodge. They probably did, given the extent of civilization and the need for secured communications with no latency. He wished he knew their secrets. It would not only make his life easier, but also tie their civilization in a way that everyone had access to instantaneous information, not just psions. 

Perhaps that was what the program wanted…. It could be a credible result of this research … these androids had to be connected somehow … maybe understanding how to stabilize them would lead to a breakthrough in creating receptors that didn’t need psions and Familiars to constantly roam the stars ….

No. Hadrian shoved that thought out. That wasn’t even the purpose of what they were trying for – they wanted obedient soldiers, without compunction or qualms, but with still enough creativity to react in combat. 

And they needed that creativity. Warfare in space might have evolved to one of attrition, with platforms essentially hurling weapons at each other, but that was all meaningless if one couldn’t seize control of inhabited areas. Which meant soldiers on the ground. 

Perhaps Hadrian could have Incandescence run an analysis again. She already did that, but he could gather more material, this time through the Familiar links, and see if it works.

But that would still run into the same issue, if the clue was off-world without a Familiar link. And Familiar links were essentially secured beyond all spying – unlike with psions and eavesdropping on emotions, it was all but impossible to overhear two Familiars’ transmission. It was why the psions’ services were prized for high-stakes communication.

“Why don’t you use the Tarots?” Incandescence said. Hadrian almost fell out of his seat.

“Can you not sneak up on me like that?” He was annoyed; even though he had erased evidence of his unauthorized visit to the database, he was still uncertain of how well he had done it. Any minute, agents could burst through the door. Though lately, it was only the cat. 

“I don’t sneak,” she said, her tail whacking his arm as he reached for her. “I live here too, in case you forgot.”

“Right. Yes.” Hadrian chewed his lip. “What do you mean, ‘use the Tarots?’” He had a pack of the Ta’lo Tarots; he had always been fascinated by their history, their artwork, and their uncanny ability to reveal hidden facts that bordered on the precognitive. But it seemed rather anomalous to use them to uncover state secrets. Their use to him had always been meditative, revealing what he had buried in his subconscious. 

“I think the answer is in the files we’ve seen so far,” Incandescence said. “The cards are reactive; they’ll respond to your need and order your mind in a way that you’ll find what you’ll need.”

Hadrian looked at her dubiously. “You sure I already have the information? Can’t you go through my mind for me and tell me what it is I’m missing or not missing?”

“Can’t.” She licked her paws. “I can only access your conscious mind. Not your subconscious or anything you already knew but forgot about, or any kind of memories your mind has suppressed, etc.”

“Oh.” Well, it didn’t hurt to try. When the cards were laid out in front of him, he looked at her. “What do I do now?”

“Focus on your need and the question you have,” Incandescence said. Hadrian closed his eyes. “Now relax and think.”

He inhaled, letting out the air slowly, leaning back into his chair and letting his muscles slacken. 

Incandescence’s voice came through more distantly. “Now place your hand on the deck and deal the cards. Just three is needed, I think.”

He obeyed. He opened his eyes and saw three cards: the knight of cups reversed, the card of temperance, and the high priestess. Hadrian frowned.

“What is this supposed to tell me?” he asked Incandescence. She meowed.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m too hungry to think. I’m going to the kitchen for some fish.”

“You do remember you’re not an actual cat, right? You have a microscopic nuclear fusion generator and yet you still sleep and eat so much.” It was sobering to remember that all forma bodies possessed it – if anyone mastered using androids with forma bodies for combat, they’d have an army that’d virtually never tire. 

Incandescence jumped off the table. “I like the taste. And sleep allows me to process my data more efficiently. Also, I just like to.”

Hadrian laughed as she went off in search of food. Then he returned to pondering the cards in front of him. He was searching for a place, and these might be the clues, but what did a knight, a priestess, and temperance have to do with a location? It sounded more like a bad joke than a set of coordinates.

Coordinates. Hadrian’s heart pumped. These could be coordinates. He saw the little numbers on the cards that signify their ranking and order in the Major Arcana.

But the knight of cups didn’t have an order. And it was reversed. 

Wait. The knight came in twelfth in the ranking of the suite and cup also represented water. Water related to the number six in the traditional eight trigram system. Twelve and six. Hadrian stared. It was too much of a coincident that the numbers were related so closely. 

Then a memory flicked – there had been a file in the database that was neither report nor image, but an executable program which Hadrian had ignored. Hadrian pulled it up on the console and entered the numbers he had in his mind. 

Nothing. The console remained blankly uncooperative, the figures he had typed glowing in green light.

Then Hadrian remembered the knight of cups was upturned– inverted. He tried again, this time reversing their order.

His console beeped, flashing as it loaded a two-dimension astrochart. Hadrian let out a triumphant breath, trying to understand its depiction after being used to holoprojections. The map showed where the main research facility was, a laboratory in a remote volume of space. Hsin Quadrant.

That sounded familiar. Hadrian recalled that it was the subject of the Convocation vote right before Hadrian had spoken out against his father. There wasn’t much known about the quadrant – it was a newly discovered region of space, with drones from the advance party returning with findings of rich deposits of platinum, a metal invaluable to modern-day technology.

It made sense to hide an installation there: it was distant enough not to arouses any interest in most people, and its potential commercial value would justify resources being allocated to develop it, supplies that could easily be funneled instead to building a top-secret area to conduct illegal human experimentation. 

And closer to home, there was an Old Dynasty site that appeared to be in Yung’le’s orbit marked on the astromap. That must be the local headquarters for the program. 

Hadrian knew what to do. He would go to the Old Dynasty site to investigate before heading to the Hsin Quadrant. He wanted as much evidence as possible before he made any decisions. 

Incandescence came back, a fish in her mouth.

“Where did you get that?” Hadrian asked. That wasn’t from his kitchen.

“The neighbor,” she said. “Did you figure it out yet?”

“What do you mean, ‘neighbor’? Please don’t tell me you snuck into someone else’s flat again and raided their kitchen. And yet, I found it.” Hadrian was tired but vindicated. Here was a concrete lead, one that he could finally act on. 

“You don’t have fish,” Incandescence said simply, lying down on the floor with her very likely ill-gotten snack. “And good job. I knew you could do it. You know where the research is being carried out?”

“Likely in the Hsin Quadrant,” Hadrian said. “On the public astromaps, there’s only a small space station in that area of space. But not far away is the research lab, according to the hidden file. There’s also an Old Dynasty space monitor in orbit around Yung’le that apparently no one knew about that’s being used for something.”

“Wonderful. I can fly us there.” She ripped off the fish head with one smooth motion. “From here, it should take a short while.”

~~

They needed to think of a credible excuse to visit. One simply did not stroll into a maximum-security site and tell the guards he was there for a social call. 

Hadrian thought he could possibly alter the visitor’s logs, but he had no ability to erase the memory of the guards. Nor did he have the ability to slip in unseen. 

He could use the backdoors in the system to give himself permission for a visit. He hoped the guards on the archaeological site wouldn’t know the truth. Despite the increased visibility of psions in society, they still remained a relatively opaque caste of their own. Most, even those in the upper echelon of society, would not know about the rift between Hadrian and his father. Psions closed ranks against outsiders, even when they fought amongst themselves. 

The simplest plan was often the best. Hadrian would go and pretend to be inspecting the project. It was not a terribly sophisticated, but it seemed reasonably sound to Hadrian. He would go as soon as he could. 

Hadrian had finished his preparations in the web. On impulse he stuck the pack of tarot into his sleeve. He might have need of it later. In addition to being psycho-reactive, the crystal cards could, with a few modifications, be altered to store his memories. It would be useful to possess a secret record of what he saw.

The doorbell rang. Hadrian cleared the table hastily. “I’m coming!”

An unfamiliar man stood at his door in nondescript robes. He had a plain face and build, the type that one would ignore in a crowd. Yet he gave off an aura of efficiency and utilitarian manner. Hadrian had encountered this type before; they were often employed as agents with the secret service, tasked with critical but clandestine duties. 

Unease prickled at the back of Hadrian’s neck. 

“Can I help you?” he asked guardedly. 

“May I enter?” the man asked politely. However courteously phrased, it wasn’t a request.

Hadrian was tempted to say no, but instinct warned him that the man had the ability to muscle his way inside without his permission anyways.

“If you don’t mind a bit of a mess,” Hadrian said, just as graciously, sidestepping to allow entry.

The man moved into the drawing room, looking around with clinical interest, his eyes scanning, assessing, absorbing every detail.

“Do you want any refreshments?” Hadrian asked, more from a desire to remain out of the man’s presence as much as possible rather offering hospitality. 

“No thank you,” the other man said. He had a row of short, stubby teeth that bared as he spoke. Hadrian noticed the man’s eyes tracked his movements like radar tracking a target. 

Hadrian sat down, trying to still his racing heart. He had an inkling of why this man was here. But he couldn’t be sure. He was certain he had hidden his movements in the web, but there had been that gap of time while he was with Antony which left his traces unattended. 

This man were also a psion. He pulsed with that distinct signature even as he guarded his emotions with a practiced smoothness. 

“How can I help you?” Hadrian tried to affect an ease he did not possess.

He did not identify himself. “It’s come to our attention that you’ve been messing about in classified systems lately,” he said. “I’m just here on a friendly visit, to make sure that everything is going smoothly and that nothing untoward has happened.”

“Well,” Hadrian raised his arms, “you can see that I’m doing perfectly well. Thank you for your consideration and thank your master for me. Next time, maybe he can come by himself. I’d be happy to show him this place.”

The man’s face tightened almost imperceptibly. Then he gave a wide smile, like a shark baring his fangs. “I’m glad you’re so sanguine about everything,” he said. “It would be distressing for me to think that you felt something was … wrong.”

Hadrian returned the man’s smile. He had a feeling that his didn’t look half as menacing. “Well, thank you for your visit. And as you can see, everything here is fine, so ….” He made a gesture towards the door.

The man remained sitting. “It’s also come to our attention that you’ve come into possession lately of certain information which you aren’t cleared to have,” he said. “I think it would be wise for you to return any copies which you have to me and come with me.”

Hadrian could not detect anything from the man’s well-guarded mind, his own attempts sliding off like water off stone. But likely the man was well-armed, the weapons hidden discreetly as to not arouse suspicion, in addition to the bioaugmentations that would make him lethal even without them. 

Hadrian was at a disadvantage. The man did not look he would hesitate using force to enforce his “requests”. Hadrian had no way to resist.

“Alright.” Hadrian rose. There was no point in pretending he didn’t understand. The man immediately stood up. “I’ll give you to the information. You can wait here.”

“That’s all right.” The man’s eyes glittered. “I’d rather come with you to be sure.”

“You don’t trust me?” Hadrian’s demeanor was honeyed, mixed with shattered glass. “You know I don’t have any way to fight you.”

“Not physically,” the man said. “But I have too much respect for your intellect to leave you alone. I’ve heard of your exploits, you know. No one else has singlehandedly destroyed a battleliner or infiltrated the capital to open the gates for our forces.”

Well, it gratified to hear that someone held him in high esteem, even if that translated to cautious mistrust hindering his chances to escape. 

It’s better to play along for now, Hadrian heard Incandescence’s voice in his head. Smart cat – she was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she had managed to leave without the man seeing. 

I’m still here, she thought. Give him what he wants right now while I think of a plan. 

Hadrian led his unwelcome guest to the console.

“How do you know I haven’t already disseminated the information?” Hadrian asked, while he downloaded the files onto a memory crystal. “What do you plan to do with this program anyways?”

“That’s why I’m taking you back to with me,” the man said. “In case this isn’t the only copy of the files. And you’re not a fool, master Hadrian. You know that to exist in this universe requires strength. All this,” he gestured around him, “the peace and prosperity you see, they’re illusory. You understand this better than most. I understand that your old wounds still pain you at times.”

“That’s not a topic open to your discussion,” Hadrian said, his voice cold enough to freeze ice. “I’m doing what you ask because you have the advantage right now, but you shouldn’t forget who I am either.”

The man gave an elegant bow of apology. “If I have trespassed, please forgive me, master Hadrian.” His eyes lighted on the memory crystal. “Is it done?”

“Yes.” Hadrian handed it to him. His arm was stubbornly heavy, almost refusing to obey. “It is. Do you want me to wipe the console?”

“No need.” The man was armed – with one fluid motion, he raised his arms to reveal a tiny laze-blaser, with only enough charge for one shot. But one was enough to reduce his console into a smoldering hulk.

“That was expensive, you know,” Hadrian spoke with no hint of the terror that flared through him. If Hadrian had any doubt as to what the man did, he didn’t now. Those weapons were only carried by commandos for assassination. Targets usually ranked high on the list of priorities; the blaster dispensed with subtlety to ensure its victim was really, really dead. 

The man smiled at Hadrian. Despite how careful Hadrian protected his own thoughts, his terror must have still leaked out.

“Just an insurance,” the man said. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any orders to use it on you.” If you cooperate. The unspoken condition hung over Hadrian’s head like a sword. 

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to see your master, I suppose,” Hadrian said. “He can pay for a new one.”

“Yes.” The man slid the memory crystal securely into his sleeve. “After you.”

Hadrian exited the room, his body tense, every muscle hyperconscious of the man behind him. The man’s attention was almost physical, like a dagger poking at his spine. Or a laze-blaster; Hadrian wasn’t foolish enough to think the man only carried one. 

Even if Hadrian made a run for it, he would likely be overtaken by the man’s enhanced speed. The man probably wouldn’t kill him, at least not yet, not without an order from his father, but he could make Hadrian obey with a judicious application of pain and threats. Hadrian was no coward, but he didn’t think needlessly endangering himself served any purpose either. 

Get ready, Incandescence said in his head. 

Ready for what?

His question was answered by the splitting cry of the alarm system. It cleaved through the silence like the screech some vengeful ghoul, filling Hadrian’s ears with awful agony.

The man, surprised by the sound, clapped his hands to his ears. Hadrian saw his chance – he grabbed the wooden stand by the door and slammed it over the man’s head. 

The man, though dazed, didn’t drop. He lashed out, grabbing Hadrian’s arm in a tight vise as his face grimaced with pain from the continued screech.

Incandescence attacked, her claws sharpened to a razor’s edge, and landed on the man’s shoulder. 

He howled in pain, trying to shake her off as she scratched at his face. It was enough for him to release his grip; Hadrian grabbed something else from the side, this time putting all his force into the blow as he crashed it at the man’s stomach.

The man let out a grunt, a foot kicking out and catching Hadrian in the shin as the lamp Hadrian had swung at the man broke.

Trying to ignore the burn of the fracture, Hadrian sought to find something else, anything else.

But Hadrian didn’t need to – Incandescence ran one nail, its point deadlier than a scalpel, over the man’s throat while the man was distracted. A thin line of red appeared – a jet of blood spurted out, landing hot and wet on Hadrian’s face as the man fell.

“Get cleaned up and find something for that leg of yours,” Incandescence said. Her claws retracted; she wiped them off on the carpet. “We need to hurry. They might have this place watched. The alarm will only go on for a few more minutes while the entire building evacuates. They might not catch you in the chaos.”

“We just killed someone,” Hadrian whispered. He was thankful the man had barricaded his mind so well; Hadrian hadn’t even felt the death cry from the man’s demise. He touched his hand to his face. His fingers were red. “What have we done?”

“Focus,” Incandescence said harshly. She threw Hadrian a piece of torn cloth from gods-knew-where. “Wipe your face and make a splint for your leg. You’re lucky the angle wasn’t right; he could have completely shattered your bones.”

Hadrian obeyed numbly, his hand working mechanically, finding a broken piece of wood and tying it securely around his leg. 

Hadrian couldn’t shove down the man’s face, mouth barely opened, the eyes glassy, from his mind. He had never seen anyone die in front of him, or how quick the moment passed. It was less than a blink of an eye when the man crossed from life to death. 

Incandescence gave a yowl. “You need to hurry up. I estimate two more minutes before the building shuts down the alarm and finds nothing wrong. They’ll have summoned the city authority by now. We can’t stay here any longer.” She tossed the memory crystal to him. Hadrian caught it. It was small and cold in his hands.

“Move!” She sank her claws into his uninjured leg.

Hadrian yelped, shaken out of his shock. He inhaled. Deeply, unevenly. “Alright.” He steadied himself against the wall. “What do we do now?”

“We need to get off planet,” Incandescence said. “As soon as possible. If you still want to go to the space monitor, then I recommend leaving now. I can use my shrouding technology to hide our approach.”

Hadrian closed his eyes. “Alright.” 

~~

Somehow, despite all odds, Hadrian made it off planet without attracting further attention. The attendant at the Royal Starport had bowed to him, obsequiously helpful to the Preceptor’s second son. 

They were somewhere in the middle of space now. Hadrian gripped onto the control panel’s arms – despite the Familiar’s gravity stabilizer being upped to the maximum, it barely had any effect, and Hadrian was reminded of how long since he last flew aboard a spaceship. 

They lay in wait, watching the area of space for any movements. They had to wait for the space monitor to move out of orbit from the most heavily armed area of Yung’le’s ground defense. Not to mention, they needed to plot a way aboard the ship. He caught glimpses of it, a large silhouette against the moon’s brightness. 

Hadrian could also see a cosmoliner preparing to depart. It was currently docked at the spaceport, filled with travelers planning to immigrate, seeking a new start, a hardy but relatively unencumbered life. He envied them. Even if Hadrian somehow miraculously survived all this without being imprisoned or worse, there was nowhere to run. Not anywhere within occupied space at any rate.

Incandescence gave him a mental jolt. 

“Can you stop that?” he hissed. “It’s really distracting. Any more and I’ll fly this ship into the moon.”

“Then stop moping,” she said tartly over the audio. “It’s bad enough that we’re stuck in the middle of space watching for an opening, with no fish or bird to chase. I can’t stand you feeling sorry for yourself. You knew the consequences. Or you should have at least expected it.”

You were the one that killed a man, Hadrian was about to say, but he stopped. She only did what she thought was necessary – it was Hadrian who began all this, by prying into matters he didn’t need to, by deciding to defy his father. 

You’re doing it again, she thought to him. You’re doing what you think is right, and I did what I thought was necessary. 

But is it right? I mean, what if I’m wrong and all this isn’t necessary? 

Hadrian had an image of Incandescence with her great orange eyes, the very picture of innocence. 

No, Hadrian thought. There had to be another way. There would be another way; Hadrian would find it. He had to.

A plan formed. While the cosmoliner still remained stationary and near, he would go onto the Old Dynasty site, using the thousands of ships on-and-off-loading to mask the approach. Though the space monitor remained a distance away from the spaceport and the cosmoliner, scrambling Stingers and Familiar fighters would still be picked up by the general populace. Hadrian bet his those involved in this program would not want to catch their attention. He had no doubt that his arrival would trigger alarm, but hopefully that agent’s death had not been noticed yet. If Hadrian was right and this was related to his family, then it was possible that those onboard would actually welcome Hadrian’s visit. 

Can you break into the space monitor’s systems? Hadrian asked Incandescence.

Already have. Her thought came back swift and smug. Hadrian looked at her sleek bank of instruments fondly. It was hard to believe she had only been in his life for a few years; he couldn’t imagine being without her. She was an indispensable part of him, as much as his hands or legs were. She and Antony.

He thought of Antony. He hadn’t heard from him since their frenzied flight from the capital. Would Antony have heard a garbled tale by now of Hadrian’s actions? Would Antony be wondering where he was? Was he worried?

Hadrian couldn’t think about this now. The ache of missing Antony tore his mind from what he needed to be doing. 

Release a virus into their system, Hadrian told Incandescence. Knock out their communication systems to the central space command. 

Gladly. 

Hadrian could make out its shape now as the Old Dynasty monitor came into view. A towering pagoda rose, its body circular, the steeple finishing to a point at the finial. The structure settled on a hemisphere, the diameter of which covered the entire base. It reminded Hadrian of a bowl, except the surface was pitted from impact by space debris, with an enormous hole that was covered by dead machinery.

Hadrian didn’t see any accompanying vessels around. He studied the display in his psi-scape – likewise, Incandescence had detected no other ships in the direct vicinity of the space monitor.

We should still use the shroud, Hadrian thought.

Activated. 

They drew closer. Hadrian saw that the opening was an enormous cannon maw, larger than any of the mountings on a battleliner. He sent a silent prayer to whichever gods watching over him that it was not active – a direct hit from that would pulverize their ship in an instant. 

No hostiles detected so far, Incandescence reported. But I do detect signs of life aboard the ship. 

We’ll just have to brazen it out, Hadrian thought. That, or go in with guns blazing. 

They landed in the hangar, one that was reminiscent of where Hadrian had found Incandescence so long ago. The recollection seemed to be from someone else’s life…. 

It does, doesn’t it, Incandescence said.

Unlike the ancient space fortress in the Kuang’fu system, this ship was manned. Two armed guards rushed up to Hadrian’s ship. They were clad in thickly protected exoskeletons, and each held a pulse rifle that could tear a man apart with a single shot.

“Identify yourself.” They had their weapons leveled at Hadrian’s ship.

“I am here to inspect your progress. Is this how you treat me?” Hadrian said coldly, adopting his father’s most arrogant manners. “While I’m pleased to see that security is so alert, I find it most offensive that you dare point your guns at me.”

These men weren’t psions, or they would have felt Hadrian’s terror underneath the bravado.

“Forgive us, master psion,” one of them said, falling on one knee. They both recognized the distinctive Familiar starfighter. The other man lowered his gun, looking confused. “We have no warning of your arrival. Our communication to off-ship webs have –malfunctioned.”

“I’m here to inspect your level of readiness,” Hadrian said. His voice was frostbite, and even the man who hadn’t knelt seemed chilled at the prospect of Hadrian’s displeasure. Hadrian was lucky that these two weren’t that intelligent – the communications suddenly dropping left them more puzzled than suspicious. “How else would I assess it if you had advance knowledge of my review?”

“This is most irregular, sir,” one of the men said. “We have no established protocol for this. This is a high clearance site; everyone who visits needs multiple levels of permission.”

“My permission is that.” Hadrian gestured at Incandescence, who obligingly opened her armaments bay to display an impressive battery of autocannons, beamers, and missile launchers. “I would be happy to return for written permission, but I assume you are familiar with how … irritated one can become with delays.”

Hadrian held his breath. If they didn’t take the bait, Hadrian would be forced to fire on them. His firepower exceeded theirs, but then Hadrian’s arrival would definitely attract attention.

“I understand, sir,” the man said finally. Hadrian forced his face to stay impassive, ignoring the somersault of relief inside. “We have no intention of hindering your work. But in your report, would you mind including that we did question your coming here?”

“I shall inform him you two were most diligent in your duties,” Hadrian said, still in that voice of a blast of wintry contempt. He held out his arms as Incandescence landed in them. He stroked her fur slowly, trying to convey that look of distant arrogance members of his family adopted in public. “You may rise.”

The men bowed as they stood. 

“Do you wish for some refreshments, sir?” the man who had knelt first asked. “Our fare is lacking, but we do have some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary. I do not have unlimited leisure time; I must hurry. Alone,” Hadrian added when the two made to follow him down the passageway. 

They bowed again, leaving Hadrian to walk through the dim passageway. 

“What’s onboard?” Hadrian whispered after the two were out of earshot. “Do you see anything? This doesn’t look much. It is suspicious though.”

“My sensors aren’t picking up anything except static and life forms,” the cat said. “I can’t even access the ship’s mainframe. It’s difficult, like there’s something blocking me.”

“How were you able to locate anything? Like human experimentations?”

“Yes,” the cat said, getting out of Hadrian’s arms. “Follow me.”

They walked down a series of winding hallways, lit by soft lights that must have been a later addition, by the crew and research team that studied this monitor. 

Hadrian stopped. 

There was a group of prisoners in an open cell, the crackle of the energy barrier holding inmates behind. At once, whatever qualms Hadrian had about the righteousness of his mission vanished. They were young, barely teenager. These were innocent people imprisoned here, aboard a mysterious spaceship for some gods-forsaken experiment.

“Who are you?” a boy asked. “We’ve never seen you before. What are you doing here?”

“How did you get onboard? What is happening?” asked another, a young girl with a pixie cut.

Incandescence hushed them. “Don’t be so noisy. We’re here to let you out.”

“You are?” The boy’s eyes narrow in understandable suspicion. “Why should we trust you? You’re a psion, aren’t you? You and your talking cat?”

“I’m not a cat,” Incandescence said snappishly. “I’m an advanced sentient multipurpose program that absorbs data inputs through the human psionic interface.”

They stared at her as though she had grown a second head. 

“We’re here to let you out,” Hadrian said hastily. He didn’t want this group confused in addition to distrustful. There was only a narrow window before someone came. Hadrian opened his mind, letting layers after layers melt, trying to broadcast his intentions. These prisoners weren’t psions but all humans could sense emotional projections to some extent.

As he did so, his awareness expanded; two other men nearby, their confusion and annoyance palpable. They must be the guards. There were also crew members on the bridge trying to fix the monitor’s communication with the rest of the system. Then Hadrian detected a strange presence, one familiar yet so alien…. 

Incandescence hissed. The prisoners in the hold backed up in alarm. 

“They have Familiars here,” she said through gritted teeth. “Psionless Familiars. They don’t have a Bond anymore.”

“I’ve seen them,” the girl said. “If you mean other talking animals like you. They’re in the other room. They don’t look so well … some of them were behaving like --”

“Like they were really tired and about to fall asleep?”

“Well -- yes.” The girl seemed surprised that Incandescence knew so specifically what she saw. “And some of them were sick. I used to work at a veterinarian clinic; I’ve seen a lot of pets like that.”

Hadrian was about to object that Familiars were not animals when he caught a flash of Incandescence’s worry. He blinked – she was usually so touchy about her identity. Yet she hadn’t protested at all. Hadrian’s unease deepened further. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. “What are you talking about?”

“Familiars who become unbonded with their psions become that way,” she said, agitated. Her tail lashed against the energy barrier, creating ripples and hums in the air. “They fall into a sleeplike state when their humans die or become too incapacitated.”

“How does that happen?”

“When the psion becomes brain dead. When the cerebral cortex stops functioning. The reverse also happens, though I would say the effect on the human is less intense.”

“What happens to the human?”

“I don’t know,” Incandescence said. “But why are the unbonded Familiars here?”

Hadrian recalled a fact from the files. “There’s a hypothesis that Familiar minds can add stability to the androids’ neural matrices.”

“Unbonded Familiars are supposed to be at rest,” Incandescence said, her claws sharpening as she clawed at the keyboard. There was a small fizzing noise, and the block vanished. The group looked at her and Hadrian, startled. “This is worse than grave-robbing. It’s an abomination to disturb unbonded Familiars – how dare they?”

Hadrian had never seen her so upset. The group of prisoners stared as he scooped her up in his arms, pressing her close.

“Shh,” he rocked her soothingly. “It’s alright. I’m here. I won’t anything happen to you. We’re going to be together no matter what happens.”

After what stretched like eternity, she stilled, her movements pausing. “You can let go of me now,” she said. “I must be spending too much time with humans, if I’m getting so emotional.”

“What do we do now?” The boy seemed to be taking the whirlwind of events in stride. “We have no option but to trust in you, but what are you planning now?”

He told them quickly what he had been thinking of. When Hadrian had landed, he had seen a frigate in the hangar. They could escape in that, search for a new home in exile. They couldn’t remain here anymore. 

There were some looks of dismay but even more of curiosity and even some of cautious approval. 

“I like the idea of being far from all this, but none of us know how to live in the wilderness,” the girl said hesitantly. “You’ll be sending us to our deaths.”

“I do,” the boy piped up. “I have some survival training; my father used to take me in the mountains of the capital.”

Hadrian was about to point out that was not quite the same when Incandescence yowled. They all jumped. 

“We need to free the Familiars,” she said. She turned to the girl. “Where did you say they were?”

The girl pointed to the hold across from them, one that Hadrian hadn’t notice in the sparse lighting. 

It was a piteous sight, the image of seeing them in the corner, locked like sick animals in the bay. It struck the chords of pity; there was a sense of wrongness, a feeling that they should not be like this.

“What happened?” one of them asked, a tanuki with vivid black markings on her fur. She sounded confused, unlike the confident, feisty tone from Familiars Hadrian was used to. “You’re a psion, aren’t you? You and that cat?” 

Hadrian looked at Incandescence. She spoke gently: “We’re letting you out. Do you know what’s happened to you?”

“Most of it,” the tanuki said. She sounded more awake now. “They were taking us to be experimented on.” Her eyes fell on the group behind them. “Along with them. You’re freeing us?”

“Yes,” Hadrian said. “Who did this to you? Do you know?”

The tanuki looked directly at Hadrian. “Why do you ask when you already know?”

But Hadrian didn’t. Or rather, a part of him didn’t. It denied that his father had anything to do with the program, let alone mastermind something that knowingly sacrificed people, even in the name of progress.

There was another worry now. Incandescence said something about going to sleep. “There’s a frigate aboard the monitor. Do you think you can manage to take that and find a new world to live?”

“We can try. Better than being taken apart like bits of a machine,” the tanuki said bitterly. “You want to set these humans free on there too, I take it?”

“Well, we did,” Hadrian said. “But I’m not sure if they can survive.” He felt responsible for them, even only from having known them for so short a period of time. “I have no idea if they’ll even make it past the system defenses, and they have no training to survive in the wilderness.”

“There are supplies on this ship,” the tanuki said. “Enough for a few months, enough to get started. We can also help.” She looked at the Familiars behind her. They nodded “We’re going to sleep soon until we Bond again, but we can hold long enough to help them get started. And frigates in this system won’t attract much notice if we use the proper codes. I take it you know them?”

Hadrian nodded.

“We can teach those humans to pilot the frigates. The pilot AI should be functional and do most of the work anyways. We can also teach them the survival skills they need before we sleep.”

Hadrian looked over at them. He could feel their uncertainty pressing on his mind. But the boy spoke.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “I think in the circumstances, that’s the best we can do. But where should we go?”

“Somewhere that’s recently discovered and settled; where there’s probably no more than a few million colonists,” Incandescence answered. “There should be no military and psion presence. The planet will need to be in the process of colonization. The civilian authorities would only have limited resources, and they’d be clustered on this one part of the planet. You can live in peace from them – it’ll a large world. I’m sending a list of potential planets that fit the criteria to the tanuki right now.”

“What about food and survival?” the girl asked.

“The ship has some medical and food supplies. The rest will have to be foraged on the planet itself.”

The others looked at her. Finally, she gave a hesitant nod. 

“I don’t see any other options,” she said. She looked at the tanuki. “You’ll teach us how to survive?”

“Yes,” the tanuki said. “Before we sleep, we’ll have enough time to train you. It won’t be easy, and it won’t come naturally, but I think with our help, you’ll be able to live in peace.”

“We have to take the frigate first,” Hadrian said. “There are still two other men on board. I’ve knocked out the communications between here and the rest of the system. But they’ll fix the ship any minute.”

“We can take care of them,” the boy said. He went to the side and picked up a heavy looking baton that evidently had been left behind by the guards. If Hadrian was actually here to inspect security, he’d include a scathing mention of that in his report. “We outnumber them now, and they don’t have a psion on their side anymore.” He looked at Hadrian. “What are you planning to do?”

“We have somewhere else to be,” Hadrian said. “It’s a long journey to our destination. Once we escort you off the monitor, we need to be on our way.” 

“Alright,” the boy said. He didn’t seem disappointed that Hadrian would not be joining them. Likely he had interacted enough with psions to last him a lifetime.

The girl didn’t seem to agree. “I think you should come with us,” she said. “Defying the Preceptor – it’s not a pretty aftermath. Not even if you are a psion.”

Her concern touched Hadrian. And her words – she thought Hadrian’s father was behind this too. Hadrian still refused to accept it. But the evidence put its thumb on the other side of the scale, and Hadrian could not deny that. 

“No, I can’t,” Hadrian said gently. “I still have more to do.” He didn’t mention that he was intimately familiar with defying the Preceptor — if Hadrian’s father was involved, likely this betrayal would not end well for Hadrian. But Hadrian had committed, and he would see this to the end. If one person’s life was saved, it would be worth his sacrifice. 

The tanuki looked at him. She had no doubt observed some of his mood, if not his precise thoughts. 

“You’re doing a brave thing, young psion,” she said softly. “You should go before they notice. We’ll take care of things from here.”

They guided the group as quickly as they could to the hangar. As he emerged through the dark passageways, he was relieved to find that it was empty, the frigate he had seen unattended. 

They had done it. 

Hadrian could only wish them the best of luck and pray to whatever gods were watching for their survival. 

There was a hiss as the hatch to the frigate opened. 

Hadrian willed himself not to turn back. He knew if he did, his doubts would return and swallow him whole. 

He had reached where his ship was when he stopped. A recognizable touch on his mind made him turn. 

“Hadrian.” 

Hadrian’s heart jumped. Antony’s voice – Hadrian experienced a surge of relief, wanted to run into his arms, wanted to let the worry wash out of his body. But he stopped.

Antony’s pulse rifle pointed directly at Hadrian’s chest. 

There was an opacity to Antony’s mind that Hadrian never encountered before with him, a circumspection that bordered on distrust. And Hadrian’s had plenty of guns aimed at him before, but never by Antony.

“How did you find me? Is this some sort of new roleplay?” he attempted gallantly. “Because this really isn’t the time or place—”

“Hadrian. Shut. Up.”

Hadrian fell silent. Next to him, Incandescence stirred, her tails swishing, her back arching up. They both stared at Antony, standing like some implacable statute of a guardian deity in their way. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Antony said, anger barely contained in his words. It simmered, its heat intense under the veneer of calm. “You killed a man and now you’re on a restricted site? I traced your tracks from when you left the starport. You’re lucky I’m the one who found you, instead of another Peacekeeper. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. You surely don’t think you can hide here, do you?”

Hadrian tried to reach him through their mental link, let Antony see the reality. Antony blocked him.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “You can’t keep me in the dark and expect me to trust you. Even if you were justified, why did you kill that man? What the hell is this place? How did you find it?”

“I didn’t mean to!” The words ripped out of Hadrian. “If you only let me explain, you’ll see that I –”

“What? Aren’t you always lecturing on the correct use of force? And now you kill a man? You can’t do that, not to one of your own men. Even if you are justified, you can’t behave as though you’re not accountable to anyone. You should’ve come to me. You should’ve stayed and talked it out with your family, not kill one of the men who was sent to invite you to the palace.”

“Who the hell told you all of this?” Hadrian’s temper flared. “The man was trying to silence me. I did what I had to. Why do you think this place isn’t marked or known to anyone, not even the rest of the Clans? That frigate I just helped leave here– it’s full of children younger than us, prisoners who were meant to be lab rats for some heinous experiment.” His lips thinned. “Touch my mind. You know I can’t lie that way.”

For the second time in less than an hour, Hadrian allowed his defenses to strip down, to give the vulnerability of complete openness, one where he was naked and could hide nothing. 

Antony froze as he sifted through Hadrian’s memories and emotions. His grip loosened on the rifle. Horror spread across his face. 

Horror – and anger.

“Why didn’t you ask for my help?” he asked flatly. “And did you really think that man was going to kill you? You acknowledge it yourself that he wouldn’t have. He was one of your father’s agents. He wouldn’t have dared hurt you. I confess I’m not exactly certain about what he has to do with this secret experimentation program you seem to have discovered, but I can’t let you go free without accountability for your actions.”

Hadrian looked away. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The man’s dead. Whether I’m right or wrong with my decision, I’ll face up to the consequences.” He turned to face Antony. “But I need to do this. Come with me. I’ll return with you after.”

He beseeched silently for Antony to join him. Hadrian needed Antony; he had not realized how much of a gaping hole Antony’s absence had left in his life. 

“No.”

For a second, Hadrian wasn’t sure he heard correctly. It was a few seconds before the rejection registered.

“No, I won’t come with you,” Antony said. He spoke quietly, even gently. But it did nothing to ameliorate the sting. “Come back with me to Yung’an. Face the courts. You don’t need to go to this secret facility to prove your point. If you’re right, then you have all the evidence you need. If you think your father has something to do with this, confront him. You can stop your father by reasoning with him, not going on this mad dash across the galaxy.”

Hadrian refused to let his knees fold. His entire body was rooted in place, chilled by an icy numbness that choked the very breath from his lungs.

“Come back with me.” Antony reached his hand out. “We can fix this.”

RUN!

Incandescence jumped at Antony even as her shout reverberated in Hadrian’s mind. Before Hadrian had time to react, Antony moved with blank automation when the bio-enhancements took over the combat reflexes. 

The pulse hit Incandescence squarely in the chest. She dropped to the ground in a smoldering heap, her orange eyes still wide and blazing.

“No”! Hadrian ran forward, taking her body into his arms.

“Run, you idiot,” she mewled.

Hadrian didn’t hesitate again. He took off, his feet barely touching the plastisteel floor in the lighter gravity. 

She seemed even heavier in his arms now that she stopped moving. The acrid smell of singed plastic and melted metal burned in Hadrian’s nose; he couldn’t do anything but replay the scene that just happened over and over again in his head. 

He needed calm; he needed to think. Hadrian forced the shock and anguish aside to focus. He never thought he’d be in this situation, on the run from Antony. He has nowhere to go. There were other vessels onboard but none of them could outpace a Familiar fighter; Luminosity was likely somewhere waiting for Antony’s orders. And now Hadrian couldn’t reach his own ship.

Incandescence’s voice came through: Use the escape pods. 

Hadrian almost dropped the burnt body of the cat. You’re alive?

Sometimes you forget I’m not an actual animal, she said irritably. I was never alive in the sense that you’re thinking of. But I’m still functioning for the time being. This body is destroyed, however, and I can’t maintain my consciousness for long. 

What can I do? Hadrian asked in distress. I can’t be without you. 

I’ll be with you forever, she responded, and it seemed to Hadrian that the voice in his head grew fainter. But you need to use one of the escape pods. They’re just up ahead. I’m glad Antony hadn’t followed you up here yet. You need to press your advantage. An escape pod on this monitor is equipped with stasis generators and faster thrusters than the ones you see on cosmoliners. She sent Hadrian a map of where to go. 

Hadrian made his way to the launchpads without questioning her orders. There were rows of capsules, ornately decorated with intricate motifs, formed from a material that was neither steel nor plastic, but something that appeared much sturdier than both. 

He hit the touchpad. The lid of one pod hissed opened. 

He knew suddenly what he needed to do. He still had an unfulfilled mission; he’d be damned if he let Antony stop him. His head hurt – it was like he had banged it against the wall.

In the pod’s rudimentary navigator, he inputted the Hsin Quadrant’s coordinates, entering the location of the space station closest to it. He set the stasis function to begin soon.

He was about to bring Incandescence’s body onboard when she stopped him. 

Leave it, she told him. It’s no use. You can’t fix it. The damage is too extensive. 

I can’t just leave you here. Hadrian fought the thought of seeing her dump like a piece of litter on the floor. 

Take my Core. 

A circular medallion, no larger than a coin, clattered next to her body, attached to a thin chain of platinum. 

Hadrian picked it up. It was warm in his hand, pulsing slightly like a beating heart. He slipped it around his neck as the pod closed and detached from the cosmoliner. 

He felt cold, his limbs heavy, his attention slowly fading into unconsciousness as he was launched into the unknown. There was nothing but space, no twinkle of stars or planets….

Before he slipped into complete blackness, he was certain he saw a familiar silhouette flashing in the distance, an indistinct voice calling for him ....


	7. Chapter 7

PRESENT:

Hadrian dry-retched against the panels. His entire body shook.

It hurt. Everything – his arms, his legs, his head. 

His heart. 

The images seared: Incandescence in a broken heap; the white clinical lights of the battleliner’s chamber with Wang Yibiao leering over him; the glassy stare of the dead man as Hadrian tasted blood on his lips –

“Are you alright?” Antony’s voice cut through, clear and concerned. It roared in Hadrian’s ears. He jerked away from Antony’s arms.

“What do you think?” Hadrian’s voice came out ragged. “I remember everything.”

And it was everything; even as Hadrian was overcome with revulsion at himself, he couldn’t help but remember the feel of Antony on him, the touch of his hands against Hadrian’s skin –

Antony reached for him gingerly –

“Don’t touch me!”

Hadrian wanted to be alone. He wanted to be anywhere from here, from the man he loved and hated so much in equal measure. 

And that awning hole from Incandescence’s absence tore him apart; he cringed from it, trying to avoid the grief. Hadrian mourned her, the loneliness that permeated him. It strained belief that he forgot about her.

How did he forget? Stasis did not cause such extensive brain damage and memory loss. Even now, there were gaps in what Hadrian remembered. He couldn’t recall the exact coordinates of the android laboratory, just that they were close.

He didn’t even want to think about that now. He was in close quarters with a man who had destroyed an indispensable part of him, who had broken him. 

And yet … the more tender feelings somehow still seeped in, despite Hadrian’s attempt to hold onto his anger. He wanted to release his rage at Antony, to return to that state of peacefulness he used to have whenever they were together, the sense of warmth and security from lying on Antony’s chest. 

But he couldn’t. 

The trust did not exist anymore. And even if Hadrian managed to convince himself to forgive Antony for his own pain, what of Incandescence? Even now, the sight of her, blackened with one paw bent, burned.

Don’t use me as an excuse, a voice said. It was barely above a whisper, but Hadrian knew that huffy tone.

Incandescence? 

I feel I should be annoyed at you for not remembering my unforgettable self, but you had good reason to. 

How are you here? 

The ship’s system rebooted my circuits, she told him. I’m using Luminosity’s power to give myself a temporary boost to restore my communication functions.

Hadrian willed himself not to cry. I’m glad to hear from you again. An understatement of the century. 

Don’t hold onto your anger, Hadrian, Incandescence told him, her voice growing quieter. Antony did what he did from self-defense, just as I did what I did killing that man because I wouldn’t let him hurt you. It was my choice that led to all this, not yours. Don’t take it upon yourself to hate him because of me.

Her voice faded from his consciousness. Hadrian wanted to shout for her to stay; he’d give anything for her to remain by his side.

My systems won’t be able to allow her with sustained communications, but I can manage occasionally, Luminosity thought, coming into Hadrian’s mind with cooling solace. 

Hello Luminosity, Hadrian thought. I’m glad to see you again. 

And he was. It was the pleasure of reuniting with old friends after so long – Hadrian couldn’t hold her responsible for Antony’s actions. And she had allowed him an opportunity to talk with Incandescence, however brief the moment was.

I’m glad you remember me now, Luminosity thought. 

“Do you need some water?” Antony’s voice was hesitant. It began to make sense now, the little clues to his reactions: the nervousness, the subtle shifts of concealment that Hadrian would have missed had he not, even on a subconscious level, be so attuned to Antony’s body and mood. 

“I’m fine.” Hadrian spoke less harshly now. He was wrung out, the maelstrom of emotions twisting him like a wet towel left out to dry. 

“I had hoped –” Antony’s voice caught. “I’m glad you’re back. I had spent all this time looking for your, and now – I’m glad you’re back.”

If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come with me back when I asked, Hadrian wanted to ask. But he couldn’t. The words stuck, hot and hard. 

“Why are you here?” Hadrian asked finally. His chest heaved, and his throat barely managed to expel air out. “Why are you looking for me?” A thought hit him, harder than all those memories. “You’re here to take me back to my father.” Hadrian thrashed, his elbow hitting Antony in the face. “No! Let me out! I need to finish this –”

“Shh.” Antony held on to him, ignoring the flailing limbs, the repeated blows to his body. “Don’t – I’m not here to hurt you. And we still have to find that android, remember?”

Hadrian forced himself to calm. There was no deception from Antony; Antony’s mind was still guarded, but gradually, the barriers of his caution unraveled. There was no ill intent, only regret and a nostalgia that bordered on longing. 

Hadrian’s anger softened. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose we have to.” 

His ire had not entirely faded. They would not be here if Antony had not taken him against his will from the station. Hadrian would have eventually remembered — that was likely his plan when he planned his escape. And that was their problem: Antony never trusted him enough to make the right decision. 

“You wouldn’t have remembered anything carrying on like you were back at the station,” Antony said, using that tone of reasonableness Hadrian hated. “You’re right; we wouldn’t be here; you’d be on that station eking out a confused existence, at least until the android got you.”

If Antony lectured him one more time, Hadrian would scream. Hadrian was an adult, and a relatively capable one at that. He didn’t need Antony treating him like a child. 

“I suppose stealing me out of bed in the middle of the night is your way of helping me,” Hadrian said sardonically. “As opposed to telling me all this and convincing me of the benefits to your approach.”

Antony’s body stiffened. “I don’t think you should be rebuking anyone about being upfront here.”

Hadrian closed his eyes. Antony was right; Hadrian couldn’t reprove Antony, not when his own actions were just as dishonest. At least Antony attempted to keep them together instead of pushing him away. 

He faced forward, seeing the stars flaring like tiny bursts of fire — red, white, gold — as they sped at a subluminal pace fast enough to avoid detection but not enough to overtake the android’s pod. They couldn’t risk losing it; intuition told him that it — all of this — was related to his father’s plans. 

“So why were you trying to take me back to Fragrant Orbital?” Hadrian asked finally. 

“I want to help you,” Antony said. “I know you want to stay around here, and that you came to this region of space for a reason, but I thought going back to the Orbital would have more resources to help you. Better medical care, better access to information. I know you’re injured; stasis and being torn out of a Familiar Bond is damaging.”

“So you kidnapped me for my own good,” Hadrian said. This made Hadrian want to shake Antony until he realized Hadrian could stand on his own two feet. “How do I know you actually want to help me? Instead of taking me back to my father to ‘talk’?”

“You’ve touched my mind,” Antony said quietly. “You know that I don’t mean you any harm.”

Hadrian’s righteous wrath deflated. He couldn’t deny the truth of that: Antony had only tried to help in his high-handed, clumsy way. The distance between that understanding and how Hadrian felt right now only added to the turmoil. 

“I want to help you, Hadrian,” Antony said. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

“No?” Hadrian’s voice was bitter. “Where were you when I needed you by my side? You didn’t trust me back then.”

“I believe you now,” Antony said. “I’ve investigated and seen what you meant. I’m sorry I wasn’t more helpful back then.” 

Hadrian didn’t press; he couldn’t fight with Antony on this forever. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice, being stuck on Luminosity with Antony. But he had to know.

“What made you change your mind?” Hadrian asked. “What, has my father publicly revealed the program? Has someone you know personally been hauled away by those agents?”

Antony did not answer, but tension increased in the tight space. Hadrian knew he had hit upon the truth. Horror stilled him. Was it someone he knew? One of his few remaining friends? Was it related to his case? Hadrian could not bear the added guilt if it was.

“No, it’s no one you know,” Antony said. “I was just in the vicinity of a rally in the park when the Veiled Chamber swept in and tried arresting everyone.”

“Tried? What do you mean tried?” Hadrian had no idea what this Veiled Chamber was, but the context of the conversation suggested it was his father’s secret police. 

“The Veiled Chamber is an extrajudicial court,” Antony explained. “Your supposed disappearance was the impetus for it, actually. There was a lot of talk that you were assassinated by the remaining Protectorate loyalists. The Convocation authorized the establishment of a secret court to supplement the existing judicial structure, with power to determine arbitrary punishment, to investigate even psions, though most of its activity remains on Yung’an. They have their own police force which ranks even above the Peacekeepers. I managed to stop them from arresting everyone at the rally, but only barely.”

“So they created a police state for my father, using me as an excuse.” Hadrian wanted to punch the window until it shattered. “And I assume you stopped them.”

“Yes.” Antony sounded troubled. “I had resigned my command of the Peacekeepers when … after you left, but I was still living on Yung’an semi-frequently at the time. The city changed. It seemed like a pall had been cast over the city, one that stifled everything from serious opposition to complains about traffic management.” 

“Seriously? Traffic management?” 

“Well, those just get a visit from very threatening-looking individuals.” Hadrian heard the strained levity in Antony’s voice. “But the rest ….”

“That’s when you knew I was right and decided to find me.” 

“No. I’ve been looking for you long before that.”

Antony’s soft words stopped Hadrian short. 

He wasn’t sure how to think. He was alternatively furious and ecstatic to see Antony again. He also understood why losing those memories might have been a hidden blessing. Sorrow intermingled with the happiness; radiant rays of joy overshadowed with clouds of lies and loss. 

“Well, you found me,” Hadrian said. “Now we’re off to the unknown, searching for a murderous android. Why did it attack me, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Antony said. “It knew you, it seemed like. And androids don’t act on their own, not even unstable ones.”

Unstable ... something stirred in Hadrian’s mind. 

“Have you looked into this android program after — after me?”

“No. It was too secured; I couldn’t find traces about it anywhere. Not on the webs, not from our contacts, nothing. If — if I hadn’t felt the truth of it from you that day, I’d say you’d made of it up. But I know you didn’t,” he added. “Why do you ask? Do you think that android has something to do with it?”

“It’s just a feeling,” Hadrian said, “but yes, I do.” He rubbed his head. It ached from Hadrian trying to recall everything. Reconciling everything he had experienced post-amnesia to his life prior gave him an uncomfortable double vision. It was still easier, however, to focus on solid questions of fact than confront the messier issues of whether to trust Antony again. 

“Its mind wasn’t a human’s,” Antony said. “I definitely got that. But from my very limited interactions with androids, they didn’t have the same characteristics as the one on Station X12 did.” 

“They definitely don’t,” Hadrian said, remembering his own dealings with them. “But maybe this is what the android program was aiming for. That one seemed always seemed like a Familiar. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but now that I remember how their minds are like, they feel very similar.”

“I think so too,” Antony said. 

“I’ve been analyzing your experiences cross-referenced with my own knowledge of Familiars, and I can say that the android in the more lucid moments does seem like one,” Luminosity said. 

“Lucid moments?”

“Yes.” Luminosity sounded annoyed. “Familiars never behave so irrationally.”

Hadrian rather disbelieved that. Incandescence had acted more like a cat than a computer at times. He smiled – and then the hurt of missing her almost overwhelmed him again. 

“So we can safely conclude that this secret program has resulted in an android?” Hadrian asked, trying to regain his equilibrium. The idea disturbed him despite his best effort to view the situation with detached calm. How many people have been sacrificed to achieve this? Creating a functional AI was not difficult and installing it into a body only a shade more complex. From Hadrian’s interaction with the android, however, its abilities went beyond much more what any android with advanced programming could do. 

“It would appear so,” Luminosity said. “I have also integrated your memories into my analysis, and from what I can extrapolate, the program has continued since your discovery, and the android that tried to kill you is the outcome.”

“Someone had to send it,” Hadrian said. Just saying the words made Hadrian run cold.

“Yes,” Antony said. He shifted, almost as if he wanted to shield Hadrian. For a second, Hadrian wished he would. 

But Antony was only moving to adjust his position. With belated embarrassment, Hadrian realized he was sitting in Antony’s lap. In better times, he would have taken full advantage of it. But now….

“I’m a pain to a lot of people,” Hadrian said, trying to rid himself of the conclusion everywhere shared. “Lots of people want me dead.”

“Not many have access to a top-secret human-forma android experimentation program,” Luminosity pointed out. “And even less has the authority to order the product of that to do anything as drastic as an assassination.”

“Yes.” Hadrian was tired. Every time it appeared that he had found solid ground, it turned out to be quicksand, and he was drowning again. 

Luminosity spoke gently. “You should sleep. You’ve been through a lot. Your body is stressed and your mind even more so.”

Hadrian was about to object. How could he sleep with all these jumbled feelings and thoughts running amok? And the minute he closed his eyes, he would be alone with them, without even the distraction of worrying aloud or verbal dueling with Antony. 

“You should sleep,” Antony seconded. “There’s not much to do anyways. I’ll wake you if anything comes up.”

Hadrian gave in reluctantly, lulled by the sight of the twinkling stars.

The last thing he felt was Antony’s arms around him.

~~  
Hadrian woke sore and unsettled. He wanted to blame space travel, but there was a premonition of unease that had leaked into his dreams. It was a vivid impression of fear and hatred, which crusted in his mind like rust. The specifics eluded him, and Hadrian tried to dismiss it as the outcome of stress. 

“Do you feel better?” Even though Hadrian couldn’t see Antony’s face, his very tone like he was beaming. Antony sounded so hopeful. Hadrian answered in the affirmation, careful to not reveal anything with his emotions. 

“Where are we?” 

Antony pointed to the screen. A series of coordinates appeared on the display, pinpointing a location close to the Station X12. A small dot signaled that the android’s pod was nearby, moving towards its unknown destination. 

Hadrian was fairly certain of his hypothesis now: why else would the android go to all the trouble to return here? It had to be related to the android program. The central lab must be around. 

He still struggled to accept the idea that the android had been sent to kill him. Was he that much a threat?

He supposed he was. Perhaps it was even flattering in a way, to warrant such drastic measures. 

“You’re awake.” Antony was relaxed in his seat. 

Hadrian flushed. “Sorry I just fell asleep on you like that. Must have been really uncomfortable for you.” 

“I’m used to it.” Hadrian heard the threads of wistfulness in that statement. “You used to fall asleep on me all the time. Just laid your head on my chest and didn’t respond when I tried to talk to you.”

“That’s slander!” Hadrian said, outraged. “I never fell asleep on you. Though maybe I did nod off after.” Hadrian missed the easy, close contact they once shared. Hadrian couldn’t do that, not anymore; he was stuck — literally — in this awkward space where he tried to avoid Antony as much as possible even while they were so entangled. 

Antony laughed and for a moment everything seemed alright again. 

“Has there been any changes?”

“The pod is fading from our sensors,” Luminosity said. She highlighted where it had been last seen. “I’m scanning the surrounding area and projecting a trajectory for it.”

Hadrian examined the map. The Huang Station was a few minutes away. 

“Wait. Go to the Huang Station.”

“Why?” Antony sounded confused. “You’re not seriously thinking of going back to being a regular crew member on there, are you? I know you’re upset with me, and I understand. But you have a greater purpose than living out the rest of your life in impoverished anonymity.”

“No,” Hadrian snapped. “I was thinking of using the Ta’lo to recall the details of the lab’s location. There are still so many holes in my memory; the Ta’lo can help me remember. It’s not all about you, Antony.”

“Oh.” Then: “Are you sure that will work? I’ve never been a big believer in the precognitive methods myself.”

“You’re welcome to think of a better solution than wandering around this part of space forever,” Hadrian said irritably.

“Hadrian has a point,” Luminosity said. “The pod’s signal is fading fast and while I can widen the search range, the accuracy of my sensors will disintegrate. And there’s something around here that’s making it difficult for me to lock onto the signal.”

“But if the cards don’t work, then we’ll have wasted an opportunity,” Antony argued. “A slim chance is better than a shot in the dark.”

“But the reason we’re following the pod instead of shooting it down is to find the lab,” Hadrian said. “If I remember where the lab is, then we’ll have solved two problems at once. The pod’s not going to land at the station, that’s for sure.”

Antony fell silent. “I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly. “We’ll head to the space station. I could do with stretching my legs.”

~~

They landed in the hangar of the station, Darren and Mei Mei running up to their ship.

“We were so worried about you,” Darren said. “The way you suddenly disappeared like that.” He shot a suspicious look at Antony. “Right around the time the psions left.” 

“He took you, didn’t he?” Mei Mei asked, also giving Antony a distrustful glance. “That’s why you vanished around the time he left, without even saying goodbye.”

It seems like you made some loyal friend, Antony said in his mind with a chuckle.

Hadrian glowered at Antony. To Darren and Mei Mei, though, he explained that it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and he didn’t want to attract further attention in case the crew became even more unsettled. He was sorry he had left without a word and caused them to panic.

“At least you’re safe,” Darren said, slightly mollified by Hadrian’s clarification. He gave both of them a bow. “I suppose I should welcome you both aboard. But what are you doing back here? Surely you can’t miss us that much.”

“I need my cards,” Hadrian said. “And to apologize for how I caused so much trouble for you.”

“You seem … different,” Mei Mei said. Unlike Darren, she was not the least appeased by Hadrian’s chain of events, and still glared at Antony, though with less force than before. “I can’t place my finger on it, but … different.”

“Did you regain your memories?” Darren asked. 

“I did,” Hadrian said. He wondered if he should expand on that. But Darren seemed satisfied with Hadrian’s answer and merely clapped him on the back.

“I suppose I don’t need to show you to your old room then,” he said. “We were about to clear it out, but we haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Thank you,” Hadrian said. He turned to Antony. “Follow me.”

Hadrian found his cramped quarters mostly unchanged. There were little furnishings to begin with; most of what had been moved were pieces of clothing. Evidently Darren had looked for clues of his disappearance.

He picked up the pack of cards from where he had left them. They were cold and smooth to his hand, the crystals edges glinting wickedly. 

Hadrian sat down, his body loose in that semi-meditative state as he cleared his mind. He touched one, two, three cards, spreading them out on the bedsheet. He was vaguely aware that he had an audience: Antony had taken up guard next to him. At the door, Mei Mei and Darren peered in, curious to witness the process where a psion displayed his precognitive abilities.

Trying to ignore their presence, Hadrian focused on the images and the questions he held. He was a vessel, allowing remembrance to fill him, using it to find the hollowness in himself. 

The Emperor reversed … Eight of Sabres reversed … Nine of Cups…

No sudden flashes of understanding, no brilliant strokes of insight came. Instead, what happened was a meandering trail that appeared through the mist. 

The Emperor … that had to refer to his father. The reversal of the card suggested loss of control. Had his father lost control of the android? It was possible; the whole reason for the android program was because of the unstable design that rendered it unreliable. 

Knowing that his father didn’t want him dead .... Something rattled in his chest — Hadrian hadn’t realized how upset he had been at the idea. Intellectually, he understood families at the pinnacle of power often were driven by rifts of distrust and ambition, but — Hadrian blinked. That didn’t help him find the android or recall his lost memories. 

He turned to the next card. Eight of Swords reversed ... To release oneself from negative patterns that held him back. 

Hadrian smiled wanly. Did suffering neural damage that lost all his memory count? Not really, not if he continued his kinky Antony at arm’s length. But could he trust Antony again?

Hadrian wasn’t in fear of Antony turning him in, that was in no doubt. But opening his heart again, only to suffer being stung again? 

He glanced over at Antony, who returned it with a small expression of support. 

Hadrian would have to decide. Perhaps not now, but soon. He missed Antony even as he hated him for what Antony’s done. He wished, many times of late, that some events stayed forgotten. Would it have been easier to meet Antony again as strangers? With a slate wiped clean of their past … no more lies, no more resentment …. 

But Nine of Cup … appreciation for one’s blessings. Hadrian was alive, reunited with his past and with Antony. The good came with the bad, Hadrian reminded himself, and he had a task to finish still…

Hadrian opened his eyes, shaken out of his trance. He understood what the cards told him now. They didn’t contain some mythical formulae or techno-panacea to restore what he had lost – rather, their purpose were more prosaic. They cleared his head from the fog of confusion that swamped it until he was unable to think. 

“Do you remember?” That was Antony. He sounded concerned, as though Hadrian would collapse any moment. 

Hadrian rubbed his head. “More or less.” He stared at the cards, the holographic sheen of them incongruously contrasting with the dull room. “I still don’t remember the coordinates, but I do recall the general direction.” On impulse, he touched the cards again.

This time, more relaxed, Hadrian did experience his recollections again, as though he was viewing them through the eyes of a stranger. He watched as they replayed, seeing himself bent over the keys of the console, typing out the code he had cracked, finding the map, uncovering the locations on it.

It was clear what happened just now. Hadrian needed clarity and some semblance of calm before he was able to unleash the psycho-reactivity of the tarot cards. Even without the damage sustained to his brain, he probably would have forgotten the precise details; even the best mind couldn’t preserve a perfect record. But it was different with the cards. Somehow, they had acted like memory crystals, allowing him to rerun what had happened. 

“Are you all right?” Antony was holding onto him. “You almost fainted.”

Hadrian wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip his arm away from Antony or pull him in. He compromised by easing himself onto the bed, allowing Antony to help him. He explained what happened. “My experiences must have imprinted on the cards. My ... I had to resolve some issues within myself before they responded to me.” 

If Incandescence had been here, she could have remembered it for him. 

But she wasn’t.

“If you need any food, Darren just went to get some,” Mei Mei said. She regarded Hadrian and Antony with curiosity, her hostility fading. Hadrian could tell she had unasked questions regarding their relationship. He hope she wouldn’t ask. He wasn’t in a fit state to answer them right now.

Almost like clockwork, Darren came back with a tea service. “This will soothe your nerves,” he said, handing Hadrian an awful smelling cup of steaming liquid. He looked at both Hadrian and Antony. “What are your plans now? What was so important that you had to use the cards?” He held a medical scanner to Hadrian. “Your heart rate is elevated and you need to rest.”

“I’ve rested,” Hadrian said. Right now, what he needed least was rest. “Can you get me a map of this region of space?”

Mei Mei handed him a handheld. He scanned the astro-chart quickly. “The lab is here,” he said to Antony, jabbing the spot where the cards had shown he was poring over. “We don’t even need to jump space to go here.” 

“There’s nothing there except dust and asteroids,” Darren said over his shoulder. “We’ve sent several scouters to that region hoping that there are valuable minerals to mine, but none of them ever returned intact. They were all pulverized by space rocks.”

“Or by someone who wanted to remain unnoticed,” Antony said. “It’s not difficult to disguise damage to look like it was done by asteroids.”

“What are you looking for?” Darren asked, his face clouded. “First the android and now this mysterious lab hidden in the asteroid belt – there’s something wrong, isn’t it?”

Hadrian hesitated. Not because he didn’t trust Darren. He did, and he wouldn’t be alive without Darren. But knowing too much put him in danger, risked him and Mei Mei and the entire space station. 

He directed an almost imperceptible look at Antony. He didn’t want to lie to his friends.

“It is,” Antony said. “But believe me when I say we can’t tell you anything more. For your own safety. The less you know, the better. In fact, it might be best if you forgot our visit too.”

“That serious?” Darren’s face tightened. “You don’t seem like the type that exaggerates, so I’ll accept it, but if it’s that serious, why haven’t you brought backup?”

“My acolytes haven’t bonded with Familiars yet,” Antony said. “Bringing them along might endanger them.” And left unsaid was the fact that they could not trust anyone else. 

“Hadrian doesn’t have a Familiar either,” Darren said, “and yet you’re dragging him into this.”

Hadrian felt a rush of warmth at the protective suspicion from Darren, but it also infuriated him. Why did everyone treat him like he was a child? “I actually dragged him into this,” Hadrian confessed, more out of bad temper than any desire to rescue Antony from Darren’s grilling. “That’s why I came here to this station. He just came to find me.”

“Ah. I see.” Hadrian could tell Darren did see, more than he was safe knowing, actually. 

“You really need to pretend we weren’t here,” Hadrian said, urgent and serious now. “Before we leave, I’ll erase records of our visits here as well as my stay. I can’t do anything about the reports you’ve already sent out, but it’s the best I can do.”

Darren let out a startled laugh. “I forgot you’re the only one who figured out how to do that. Alright, I’ll take the hint. I’ll stop worry.” He turned somber. “And I’ll let the crew know not to mention you to any outsiders. But Hadrian?”

“Yes?”

“Try to keep yourself alive and visit us sometime after all this is over.”

Hadrian couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Only if you don’t have any more trouble with crazy murdering androids.” 

“We should get going,” Antony said from the side. He nodded courteously to Darren and Mei Mei. “Thank you for all your help.” Hadrian couldn’t place it, but there was something odd. 

They were out of the station hangar when Hadrian realized why. Antony hadn’t reacted with the possessive wariness he used to on the limited occasions Hadrian interacted socially with others his age. He wasn’t sure how depressing that was, the fact that Hadrian didn’t socialize much or that Antony used to be so jealous.

But he wasn’t now.

Antony chuckled a bit at overhearing Hadrian’s thoughts. “I used to be a bit of an ass, wasn’t I?”

“A bit?” But Hadrian was smiling too. “Try a lot.” He hadn’t been sure, but he wanted to restore his relationship with Antony. “Thank you, though.” 

“For what?”

“For not giving up.”

Antony leaned in, his breath ghosting over Hadrian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for the way I hurt you.”

“And I’m sorry for not trusting you,” Hadrian said. “That must have hurt you too.”

He could just imagine Antony cocking a smug face behind him. “You’re stuck with me now. Who else would put up with your crazy ass?”

“Well, you seem to think plenty of people will,” Hadrian said. “And I’m very sedate, you know. Basically a homebody.”

Antony snorted. “Right. A homebody would take us in the middle of what’s essentially uncharted space.” He sat back again, turning earnest. “I think we can make it through this. As friends, as lovers, whatever you like. But I’m willing to show you that we work.”

Hadrian understood why Antony was saying all this. Apologizing to each other, finding forgiveness, was only a means to closure; it didn’t necessarily signal a new beginning. 

But what did he want? A fresh start? Or simply an end to a fraught chapter? Hadrian wasn’t sure.

Antony must have picked up the gist of Hadrian’s misgivings, because he said: “I’ll wait. Besides,” the display sprang to life, “we have work to do.”

Hadrian input the coordinates. “It is in the middle of an asteroid field,” Hadrian said, examining the screen. “You think we can manage to get through there?”

“This hull is strong enough to withstand their impact,” Luminosity said. “However, I would prefer not to be hit as much as possible.” 

“I think we would all like that,” Antony said. “But we can’t use your beamers to blast them out of the way.”

“Or missiles either,” Hadrian said, remembering that fateful day with the races on Fragrant Orbital. “There are probably sentries around the lab and anything flashy would no doubt attract their attention. We don’t know what kind of defenses they have, but our best defense is the element of surprise.”

“Agreed. Right now, we have that. The android might have reached the base already and it knows we’re coming, but it doesn’t know when or from which direction. And I want to say that the facility is protected by passive means rather than active – mines, sentries, perhaps a few attack drones. Any more would be too difficult to hide.”

“And here I was looking forward to dueling a battleliner again.” Hadrian wondered what they would find. Would it be eerie like the space monitor above Yung’le? Would it be coldly clinical like Wang’s battleliner? 

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Antony said, catching the train of Hadrian’s thoughts. “Hopefully we’d just have to evade some rocks and blast some drones.”

“All in a day’s work for you, then.” Hadrian supposed it rather unlikely that it’d be so easy. Unfortunately, no matter how much he wished it, his life of late had rarely gone the way he planned. 

Hadrian missed this: the thrill of the chase, the adrenalin of incoming battle, the tension that translated fear into excitement. He didn’t used to think he did, but it reminded him of the past, of the simplicity from the old days, when there was a clear delineation between right and wrong, when he and Antony placed their faith implicitly in each other. 

They flew through space, so fast that it seemed they were stationary. The unpredictable nature of the moving asteroid made it dangerous to jump space; the fighter might come out to meet a space rock head on. Luckily, the supposed laboratory was close enough that they had no need to.

Their best option was to engage the stealth mode to conceal the ship’s most obvious signature. There was no way to completely hide their approach. The exhaust would give them away immediately. But it dissipated quickly, and given luck and enough speed, they would be far along that detection wouldn’t happen.

Incandescence would not have this problem; her cloaking device included methods to disperse enough subatomic particles to change the composition of the exhaust and match the surroundings. Not for the first time – and not for the last – Hadrian missed her. And not just for her technology.

He hoped her ship was safe and at peace. But likely it was now in pieces, being picked apart by his father’s researchers trying to turn her unique abilities to their advantage. 

Hadrian’s fists clenched. He would be damned if he let her sacrifice be in vain. 

“Approaching asteroid field,” Luminosity said. “Estimated time to destination: five minutes.”

Hadrian could see it now, as the screen turned clear: great chunks that zoomed by as Luminosity shifted and dodged, her computer calculating their trajectory and adjusting for any changes. At these rates of acceleration, no humans could account for the rapid swings; Hadrian was pressed against the cockpit, thankful for the g-forces protection. 

Even so, Hadrian’s stomach still churned in protest. 

“We can make you more comfortable by activating the stasis, but it would take more power that could be seen by a sensor,” Luminosity said. 

“It’s fine,” Hadrian said. His head swam and lazy little dots floated through his vision. “I’ll be alright.” He knew he was feeling the effects more because of his lack of bio-enhancements. Antony was fine, sitting as though they were merely driving in the streets. 

Antony pressed forward. “You don’t have to put up a front with me,” he murmured. “If you need the stasis, you don’t have to pretend otherwise.”

“It’s fine,” Hadrian repeated, thrown off balance by a sudden jerk to the right. Antony caught him in the crook of his arm. “If you have a helmet or some padding though, I’d take that.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we’ll be clear in a few seconds.”

So they were. Hadrian breathed easier when they emerged, leaving the rocks behind.

Into a swarm of attack drones. 

Figures and preliminary analysis on them flashed on the screen, describing everything from their armaments to their make and model. These were short distance assailants, based on space habitats or planets rather than spaceships. They must be close to the main base. 

“Hold still,” Antony told Hadrian. He closed his eyes, entering the psi-scape to coordinate the battle. 

Hadrian could only sit and watch helplessly. They fanned out, armed with deadly spurs and rudimentary intelligence to seek out their target. Over, under, right, left – they came in all directions, each locked onto Luminosity’s presence using infrared radiation, using their computers to calculate Luminosity’s trajectory.

In this limited space, hemmed in by huge pieces of space debris and the drones, Luminosity had little room to maneuver. She could neither dodge nor jump space here. She had to fight.

Beams shot out in rapid succession, demolishing the first wave with ease. 

But more came, at such a pace that Hadrian couldn’t keep track on the screen.

But Luminosity’s computer and the augmented mind-link formed between Familiar and psion proved more than equal to the task. Luminosity launched an MIRV, the warheads meeting the attack drones in brilliant flashes, followed by the unnerving effect of stillness that always accompanied the destruction.

Hadrian bit his lip. They had taken care of more than half of the bots, but enough remained. There were also the asteroids to worry about; the risk of accidental collision while evading could possibly hurt the ship more than the attackers themselves. 

But he didn’t need to worry. Within a minute, it was all over, Luminosity finishing off the bots with deadly precision, deploying her beamers to great effect. 

Antony frowned, exiting out of battle mode. “That was too easy.”

“Don’t complain. Those were ram drones, to counter the accidental discovery by civilian ships and scouters. They weren’t meant to fight off a Familiar.”

“Now they know we’re here,” Hadrian said, chewing his lip, his mind flicking through a thousand scenarios. The space station appeared, a nondescript cylindrical structure with two double rings, one rotating at each end. It would not have looked out of place anywhere in the galaxy, with the exception that this one was larger than most.

They neared it, the blast doors like a great jaw closing as they shut. 

The ship slipped through just in the nick of time, the tailfin becoming caught and tearing out with a nasty screech. 

Hadrian was thrown against the screen as they came to a shaking stop, the landing claw raking at the plastisteel.

“Are you alright?” Antony brushed his hair out of his eyes as the ship released his arms. “That was bumpier than normal.”

“What’s the damage on the ship?” Hadrian asked Luminosity. 

“Superficial. It would affect aerodynamics when we’re cruising in the atmosphere or flying in the air, but for the time being, it won’t be of importance.” She paused. “My systems show that there are at least a hundred men onboard. Even a preliminary analysis suggests they are armed and not very receptive to visitors.”

“We need to deactivate the alarms and get the blueprint,” Hadrian said, “before the guards on here can react.” He turned to Luminosity. “Can you access it?”

“I can download the blueprint to a handheld,” she said. “But I don’t have any programs that can disable the security. I’m not equipped for cyberwarfare.”

Damn. That meant they’d be easy targets. If only he had his old console or handheld; they stored enough spy codes to take down an entire quadrant’s webs. Not that he would have, of course – Hadrian only created them out of academic interest. 

He didn’t have enough time to produce one from scratch, not in the few minutes or even seconds that their surprise visit bought them. 

His eyes came upon Incandescence’s Core. He had an idea.

“Can you access Incandescence’s Core and use the programs stored there?” Hadrian asked. “She might still have some of the more recent ones I’ve developed with her.”

“I can boost her functions to wake,” Luminosity said. “You’ll have to be the one to enter and retrieve them. Put your hand into the interface socket.”

Hadrian did so, a flash of nostalgia almost overcoming him. It reminded Hadrian when he flew the first time.

Attending, came Luminosity’s voice in his head. 

Everything faded. Instead of the psi-scape Hadrian had expected, he was plunged into a dark chamber. 

This is the interface shell for her Core, Luminosity thought. You’ll have to take the rest of the journey yourself. Be careful.

Be careful of what? 

This has never been done before to my knowledge, Luminosity thought. Attempting a live connection with a bodiless Familiar. 

Hadrian blinked, unaccustomed to the gloom. 

Unlike reality, his eyes refused to adapt. It was, Hadrian knew, just a way that his mind interpreted the digital signals routed from Incandescence’s Core. But nothing appeared. 

Was it all a fool’s errand and he had gambled the precious few seconds they had away? Hadrian took a deep breath, preparing to exit. 

No. Wait. He stopped, held in place by intuition. He imagined a torchlamp in his hands, and as he did so, light appeared, providing weak illumination. 

But at least he saw now. 

It was an empty room, devoid of furnishing or even any openings. There were no doors or windows, and the walls were a material that sucked away what little brightness Hadrian had created. 

“Hello Hadrian.”

The cat appeared suddenly. Hadrian ran up to her, intent on picking her up but she shook her head. “We don’t have a lot of time. You need to help me find your spy programs. I can’t get to them by myself.”

“How do I do that?”

“They’re in this room somewhere,” she said. “I’m not exactly sure where they are either.”

Time ran different in these types of simulated realities, but a delay was a delay. And right now, they couldn’t afford any. 

“Do I do what I just did?” Hadrian asked. “Imagine and it’ll appear?”

Incandescence tilted her head at Hadrian. “More or less? I’m not sure exactly either.”

Well, that was helpful. But why not? 

Hadrian concentrated. Show me where my program files are. 

Nothing. 

He looked at Incandescence, who appeared bemused. 

“I suppose you’ll need to try harder than that,” she said. “That obviously didn’t work.”

“Obviously.” Hadrian couldn’t think of anything else to do. “Can’t you just come back? Then I won’t have to go through all of this.”

“I want to,” the cat said. “But you know I can’t.”

“Why?” Hadrian demanded. “Why can’t you? Your main personality is still intact, and you might’ve lost some of your functions, but so what? I don’t care if you can’t compute a geometric sequence anymore. I still need you —” Hadrian broke off, the rest of the words too hard to vocalize. 

“You don’t,” Incandescence said gently. “You’re just as strong without me as with me. My Core might still be active, but I can’t exist without an independent power source and body of my own. I can’t keep using Luminosity to speak with you forever. Also, I’m offended. I can for sure computer a geometric sequence. Want me to recite it to you right now?”

“No, that’s alright,” Hadrian said hastily. He gazed at her sadly. “So once I get what I came for, this is goodbye?”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “I’m sure our paths will cross again someday. But it might be a while before we meet each other again.”

So it was. Perhaps not a complete farewell, but an ending nonetheless. He would always remember her, and there would always hope that her body could be rebuilt, that she could be restored. Hadrian understood it would be difficult, but far stranger events had happened to him, and this would be the least of it.

He focused again, calling up what he sought, touching the wall as he did so. It shimmered, waves rippling from the point of contact to reveal a compartment. 

“You found it,” the cat said, her tail curling around his ankle.

“The lift to the hangar is starting to descend,” Luminosity said, her voice cutting through and echoing slightly. “You don’t have long.”

Hadrian held the box, opened it. A blaze of white light burst out, forcing Hadrian to shut his eyes.

Gingerly, he opened them. He was back in Luminosity’s cockpit. The lights in the hangar had gone out and the ship’s screen was the only glow.

“You’ve done it,” Hadrian said. His head spun from the dizziness. It had only been a few seconds in real time since he had entered Incandescence’s consciousness.

“Yes,” Luminosity said. “I’ve shut off all power to the station except for life support and gravity stabilizer. The men coming down the lift should be stuck in there until they flush out the virus. I think it best if I stay here in my ship body while you two go do whatever it is you came for. I can fend off the attackers with the beamers and the autoguns if they approach.” 

The cockpit released with a hiss. Hadrian jumped out first, helping Antony as he climbed from the fighter. Antony handed Hadrian a spare handheld and a handgun. He himself took up two large pulse-rifles, fierce, with eyes blazing, the warrior ready for battle. 

They climbed, using the cable in the emergency shaft, guided by faint lights that turned on when the main power shut. Hadrian scaled it with one hand, the other with the handheld, checking the schematics. Antony followed, the two rifles slung over his back.

“We need to go to the central command deck,” Hadrian said, squinting. “The main laboratory is there. There are two other subsidiary labs onboard at the south and east end respectively, with the center point being the command deck.”

“What are we planning to do?” Antony asked. 

“Collect enough information from their database and then destroy everything. The records, the specimen, the equipment. I can’t be sure there aren’t any other backups in other locations, but we can make sure the forma program is set back enough to buy some time.”

“Time for what?”

Hadrian didn’t know. Time to expose the secret and turn the tide of public opinion? Time to think of a permanent and drastic solution? Hadrian was fairly certain his father – if not actively managing – had at least condoned and continued the program. “I don’t know. But it’s the best I can think of. I just know this can’t continue, and if we don’t do anything, it’ll be too late.”

“Alright.” With that simple word, Antony agreed to set himself against Hadrian’s father, the Preceptor of the Protectorate, joining Hadrian in treason, with the possibility that it would implicate his own Clan. Even if they succeeded, there was a chance they would be exiled from their homes by the conflict that followed.

Hadrian was prepared to sacrifice himself, but only now did he realize the terrifying consequences for Antony. Public disgrace, ostracism: the Cheungs and the entire Fragrant Orbital under a cloud of suspicion by his father. Hadrian understood his father’s character enough to know that he would show no mercy, particularly if he suspected the resources of the wealthiest Clan was behind opposition.

Hadrian opened his mouth – and shut it again. What could he say? Tell Antony to turn back and allow him to do this on his own? Apologize for pushing Antony to choose? Hadrian was so wrong when he tried to force this decision that fateful day on the space monitor. 

“I made my decision,” Antony said, his voice coming out strong in the echo of the chute. “I’ll stand by you. My father and Fragrant Orbital aren’t as helpless as you think we are. We’re strong. We’ve faced plenty of tyrants before and we’ll be able to do so again.”

Hadrian had no words. He just smiled. 

~~

Hadrian had managed to enter the camera system that monitored the station when power was restored. The men were spread out, searching for them. Hadrian and Antony ran in the main passageway, a cold tunnel of dark steel and plastics that led down to the command deck. 

They had to be quick. Hadrian watched some of the guard engaging in battle with Luminosity. It was a standoff: she had more firepower, but her opponents had numbers on their side. The ensuing firefight held most of them up.

But any moment, the guards would realize that it was a distraction – a Familiar would not fly itself into the middle of a top-secret facility – and come back to the main level, looking for the psions that had infiltrated.

Hadrian was ready to unleash a potent computer bug that would wipe the memory in the database clean. It would leave corrupted any files that remained, no matter how the techs tried to salvage them. Failing that, he would simply destroy the consoles. But that ran the risk of the forensic team managing to recover some of the information stored on the hard drive. 

But first, he needed to collect every detail. Even the extensive files that he had found in the government systems were not enough. He needed physical evidence. Capturing and taking an android being worked on in this facility might be too difficult to achieve, so Hadrian had to settle for verifiable visual and audio evidence. Only then would the Convocation accept Hadrian’s word and launch an investigation in the face of incontrovertible proof. 

The command deck encompassed an entire level. Enormous floor to ceiling glass allowed for a vista of the cosmos, with the white fire of the stars glinting in the velvet background. 

What truly stole his attention was not the view or the impressive rows of state-of-the-art consoles, but the glass tanks at the center of the hall. 

They were filled with humanoid shapes that Hadrian knew at once were the result of the forma experiments. They floated in clear liquid, in a way that was vaguely nauseating, their bodies muscular and well-proportioned but their faces a blank mask, with cutouts for the eyes and the mouth. 

Hadrian went over to the console and opened the latest record. 

“Apparently these have the ability to shift their facial structure,” Hadrian said, reading aloud. “Their face is created from a material different than the rest of their bodies, so that it allows the androids to alter the appearance.”

He continued to scroll through the files. It was fascinating, what they had managed to push the capabilities of forma construction.

Hadrian wondered if they had mastered the technology enough to rebuild Incandescence’s body. Without either forma or ship body, her Core would forever be dormant, sentient and but sleeping, unless another Familiar consented to sharing her conscious space. 

He didn’t want that. He had accepted that they were parted for the time being, but if he could find a way to revive her, he would. At any cost, even using the forbidden fruits of this project. 

Was this how his father felt? Had Lord Julius experienced that same urgency and need which propelled him to take part in the old Protector’s human experimentations? 

Hadrian bit his lip. And here he was, thinking of using the same research he had so condemned for even more selfish purposes.

But it already existed, a voice whispered. It sounded reminiscent of Incandescence. You haven’t hurt anyone. And would it not be an insult to their memory if their sacrifice were in vain?

“Hadrian.” Antony spoke urgently. “You need to do something. People will be coming back any minute.”

Hadrian took a deep breath. Then he took his handheld, and began downloading everything: the security footage, the visitors logs, all the records the station had – and all the research.

“After I get everything, I’ll wipe the memory of the database,” Hadrian said, drumming his fingers impatiently. “All of it: the visitors log, the research, and disable the space station except for its communication and life support functions. That way, they won’t be able to use this place ever again.”

“The guards will be back any minute,” Antony said, his two rifles pointed at the wide-set doors. “You need to hurry.” He tossed a small device to Hadrian. “In case you don’t manage to finish.”

“What’s this?” 

“It’s a small timed explosive,” Antony said. “Attach it to the tanks.”

Hadrian obeyed, trying to avoid the uncomfortable sight of the body floating as he did so. “Are you sure it’ll have enough charge to destroy the console? It’s so small.”

“That can destroy the entire space station,” Antony said with a laugh. “Not that we want to, of course, especially while we’re still aboard.”

“No, that would definitely be a bad idea.” Hadrian straightened. “Now what?”

“Are you done with what you’re doing?” Antony gestured at the handheld. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. The main doors will probably be out of the question, but we can take the service entrances.” He nodded at one of them. “It looks like it’s big enough for us to fit through.”

“Yes.” Hadrian remembered that they lead to a more circuitous route back to the hangar. “I’m almost done.” He saved the data and prepared to inject the virus into the computer system, linking its activation to the timed explosive. If this worked, then they wouldn’t need to blow up the place.

“Hello, master Hadrian.”

His heart stopped. Hadrian would know that voice anywhere. It spoke to him in during the darkest time of the night, the sound of his fears, haunting him in that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep. 

It was Wang Yibiao. 

He was disfigured, the entire right side of his face burnt and scared, and his arms were welted with what appeared to be contact from burning metal. Despite this, he was well-dressed, though this time in a plain lab coat rather than the old Protectorate bureaucrat’s robes.

Hadrian never thought he would see Wang again, not even in his darkest nightmares. And now Wang did look like a monster out of the recesses of his fear: the disfigured face, the damaged arms…. 

“What happened to you? How are you here? How did you get out of the battleliner?”

“It was boarded even as it was being attacked,” Wang said. He stiffened, and what was left of his face curled in pure hatred as he lost his controlled pretense. “I was unconscious in the burning corridor. I suppose I should be grateful that they pulled me out of the wreckage, even when they put me in prison.”

“And my father had you take charge of this android program.” It was a guess, but it hit the truth. There was no denying Hadrian’s father’s involvement in this now. Hadrian had held onto hope that it wasn’t so, but here was undeniable proof. Hadrian looked upon Wang with a sickened feeling. Both at the man himself and at how Wang’s appearance had confirmed Hadrian’s worst fears.

“Yes.” Wang’s hands were gripping so tight they were claws. He glared at Hadrian, a malevolent demon out of the fires of hell, the burns on his face and hands standing out starkly. Even for someone who guarded his mind so well, his rage and pain and humiliation at being bested struck at Hadrian.

Antony raised his rifles. “Come any closer and I’ll blow your head off.” 

“Your manners haven’t improved since we last met, Master Antony,” Wang said, his cultured tone cold and arrogant. “I suppose you two are the intruders that we’ve been searching for. I should’ve known.”

“I told you they would find me,” another voice said. Hadrian gave a violent jerk. It was the android. 

It came up next to Wang, giving Hadrian and Antony a most human-like smile. “I suppose I should bid you welcome to my birthplace,” it said. 

“Your birthplace?”

“I was born here,” the android said. “Right behind you in that tank over there.” Its eyes caught the lights and glittered, almost with amusement. “The only surviving one, I’m told.”

“So you were,” Wang said. He looked at the android with an expression approaching fondness. “You were the only success after countless tries. We had to go through several brains and one Core before we could get you to stable consciousness.”

“Those brains? You mean the prisoners?” Hadrian glared at Wang. “Say what they are. Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Ah… ever the soft heart, aren’t you, master Hadrian? But if you insist … yes, the prisoners your father provided me.”

“How did you do it?”

“Through neural mapping,” Wang said. “We slice the brain into thin enough pieces, filaments really, and try to combine the aspects we think will create a stable personality. Then we recreate a matrix based on it and implant it into the forma body.”

“Aren’t there less invasive processes to scan the brain?” After all, Hadrian had been through several himself, performed when he failed to Bond with a Familiar. They were unpleasant, but hardly as harmful as what Wang described. Hadrian had no doubt what Wang did required greater expense and effort. 

Wang shook his head. “We need even more precision that what those scans can tell us.”

“Those scans can detail to the millimeter difference,” Antony said.

“The brain is complex, master Antony,” Wang said. “We need even more accurate scans than that if we are to capture certain traits from an individual. Bravery, for example, or a capacity for tactile learning.”

The impact of Antony’s shock was like a ram; combined with Hadrian’s own, it battered Hadrian, leaving him rooted to the spot in disgusted. What Wang meant by ‘scans’ actually involved physical dissection of the brain. 

The prisoners that they had used for the android program … they were all dead.

“But matrices based on human brains alone tended to deteriorate psychologically,” the android said. “Not only did the personalities of the androids remain static, but they seem to carry imprints of their past lives. And of course, we had to get them able to be responsive and adaptive to the environmental stimuli and understand the nuances of human interaction. So we added the Familiar Cores.” It spread its arms wide open. “And now here I am, a marvel of biosynthetic technology.”

Hadrian rather doubted the android’s boastful words. “And murderous.”

“Ah … are you still upset about that, master Hadrian? You didn’t even know those people I killed. At least, not well enough to be this upset.”

“Well, he was always a busybody,” Wang said. 

“Those men were an obstacle to me carrying out my mission,” the android said. “I knew they would hinder me from eliminating you as a threat.”

“Who gave the order to you to kill me?” Hadrian asked. He hadn’t wanted to ask this. “Was it my father?”

The android scoffed. “Of course not. You humans are still too weak to carry out such a drastic measure. So faint of heart and fond of your so-called virtues.”

Hadrian’s heart thumped. He had no idea how much he had needed to hear that. He had told himself it wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other, but it did. His shoulders relaxed, the air loosened in his chest at the answer.

“He did direct me to find you,” the android said. “But he wasn’t very specific about what to do after. Just telling me to bring you to him. But I have been analyzing what his needs are, and what my needs are, and I have decided for the best interest of all is that you are eliminated.”

“Why?” Hadrian asked. “Because I want to shut this program down?”

“Yes.” The android’s face stretched in a cold smile. “I suppose you humans have made me better than you expected. I feel emotions just as you wanted. Even ones as irrational as being fond and protective of a place. Even wanting my kind to continue proliferating.”

A chill shot through Hadrian at the idea of more androids like the one standing before him. So coldly callous of life – and yet it claimed it felt. 

But perhaps it did … its creator, standing next nonchalantly, as though this was common to see a sentient android converse with two psions, was as contemptuous of others as the android. At least the android wanted to preserve the future of his kin. 

“I can’t imagine my father or Master Wang here would be happy with your bouts of irrationality,” Hadrian said. He gave Wang a cold smile. “Are you? After all, this program is meant to create a breed of obedient super soldiers. Imagine if every one of them decided to reinterpret their orders … sometimes in ways that might not be as agreeable to the original intent.”

“Don’t try such a transparent tactic to divide us, master Hadrian,” Wang said. “The android is much too intelligent here to fall for that.” And indeed, the android hadn’t even moved at Hadrian’s suggestion. 

“On the other hand, I might try to tempt you,” Wang said. “After all, I know you lost your Familiar. These bodies are perhaps the best suited for their Cores.”

“Last time we met, you wanted to kill me,” Hadrian said. “Why would I believe a word from you?”

“Because last time we met, we were on different sides,” Wang bared his teeth. “But now I work for your father, and I can assume he would want you returned to him. Chastised but still alive.”

“Your creature here tried to kill me.”

“Ah … yes.” Wang turned to the android. He examined it, as one would a difficult equation. “I suppose I would need to examine its matrix again. We paired some of the brightest minds we had with a Familiar Core. It was hard work, integrating the two. I don’t think Familiars interact very well with non-psionic humans.”

“What did you do with them?” Antony asked.

“What did I do with what?”

“The prisoners. Why couldn’t you simply asked for recently dead bodies?”

“Because the brain is the first to decompose after death,” Wang said. “And it requires enormous amounts of oxygen, energy, and blood. We need it as close to life as possible. We had tried operating on the specimens while they were still alive, but the ensuing trauma unfortunately affected its neurological patterns.”

“You disgust me,” Hadrian said before he could stop himself. Blood roared in his ears and he wanted to regurgitate all the content in his stomach. “You’re talking about cutting open someone’s brain while he’s still alive. What could justify that?”

“Progress need no justification, master Hadrian,” Wang said. “It simply is. It doesn’t care about morals or virtues or the qualms of the weak-stomached. I need to find answers to mysteries we can’t solve simply by reasoning it out. How do you think the Old Dynasty attained its great heights? How do you think they created the psions or the Familiars? They weren’t queasy about doing what was needed. Your father understood that, which was why he freed me from prison to what was necessary.”

“So that is how you’re still here,” Antony said. Hadrian had not even considered how Wang had survived, too shaken by the hail of revelations hitting him one after the other. “The Preceptor released you to do his dirty work.”

“I have you to thank for all this,” Wang said, gesturing at his scarred face and damaged hands. “Your attack on my battleliner. I sorely want to return the favor.”

“Come near him and you die.” Hadrian leveled his handgun at him. He would never let the same that happened to him be done to Antony. The old hatred came alive again in his veins, scalding him with its intensity. 

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” the android said. “You’re surrounded by our men outside the door. You won’t get out of here alive. If you’re polite, we might even let you live.”

“Wang said he would let me live already,” Hadrian said. “Or have you not remembered?” It was true; Hadrian sensed their minds, harsh and impersonal. 

Hadrian wondered why the men had not attacked yet. He and Antony were outnumbered and outgunned. Their only advantage was that their leader was easily within range, and even that was negligible. The android had proven it moved fast and hit hard. It wouldn’t be easy to take it down, and they needed to do that before they could hold Wang as hostage. 

The android followed Hadrian’s eyes. “Yes,” it said. “You’re at a disadvantage here, no matter how you calculate it. I wouldn’t do anything as irrational as resist.”

Hadrian tightened his grip on his handgun. Next to him, Antony did the same. They might have to fight their way out. Or try. As long as the strange impulse that held back the guards from coming inside remained, Antony and Hadrian had a chance.

But the android watched them, his eyes as keen as any sensor, tracking them closer than any targeting software on the most advanced spaceship. His response would be just as fast too; only Antony had the augmented reflexes to match and it would be a hard-pressed match to win.

Hadrian was near useless – he could aim at Wang, but they were at a distance, meaning the only option was to kill. That discarded their leverage, no matter how much Hadrian wanted to see Wang’s corpse on the ground.

Hadrian gritted his teeth, barricading his mind to the barrage of emotion and memories. Being an empath in these moments was truly a curse – to have sympathy for an enemy, weakening his resolve. 

But it also provided valuable insight. Hadrian saw the man was distracted right now. Wang was too elated by his unexpected catch, and overconfident with all the advantages he held. 

So Hadrian fired.

The laser struck Wang squarely in the chest even as the android flew at Hadrian and the doors open, with the guards waiting at the gates inundating the hall with their guns.

The android stopped short of attacking Hadrian himself, even as Hadrian and Antony were beset on all sides, with laze-blasters and pulse rifles directed at them. There was no way now that they could escape, whether through the front or the maintenance shafts that connected the command deck to the rest of the station. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” the android said, looking over Wang’s body. It poked at the chest with a toe. “All my analysis suggested that you were impulsive but not stupid. You surely knew that the only reason why the guards hadn’t entered yet was because he wanted to speak with you alone. And now you lost your only hostage against us.”

Hadrian panted, his pulse racing. He did know that. But it was so satisfying to see Wang dropped to the ground, to finally find a release for his unease and uncertainty and rage. It was no loss; it was a service to humanity that Hadrian had done what he did.

Antony came, almost back-to-back, as he took in the numbers against them. 

You set the charge, right? he asked through their mental link. His plan was transparent: he intended to hold the attacker at bay, giving enough time for the explosive to activate.

I did, Hadrian responded with a grim satisfaction, knowing that at least part of their plan had succeeded. The android and the others were none the wiser. They wouldn’t be able to leave here alive, but they would play their part in ending these inhumane experiments. The loss of this lab and its chief would be a heavy blow.

I want you to run for the closest shaft when I start firing, Antony thought. I should be able to gain some ground for you to get into the hangar. Once there, Luminosity can take you away. To Fragrant Orbital or anywhere you like. Far from here. Far from danger.

No! Hadrian cry reverberated even in his own mind. I’m not leaving without you.

Then you’re not leaving at all.

In that moment, Hadrian was certain of what had been troubling him all along. Despite the mental gymnastics and attempts at persuading himself, Hadrian had never truly forgiven Antony, had never truly accepted that they could overcome what seemed like an insurmountable void between them.

But faced with impending death, Hadrian found that none of it mattered. Not the old hurts and the slighted pride – they paled into nothingness at the idea of leaving Antony to stare down these guns alone. 

“I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of Wang for me,” the android interrupted. “He was much too forward with his attentions, always prodding and poking as if I were one of his specimens.”

“Aren’t you?”

The android seemed amused at the question. “Haven’t you gotten the sense by now that I am no man’s prize or tool to be used?” It peered disdainfully at Wang. “Least of all by a madman who has no understanding of what he’s created.”

“I thought you tried to kill me because you thought I’m a threat to your home?”

“Correction: I am going to kill you because you are a threat to my home. But so was Wang. He is the best example of the flaws of your kind – selfish, ignorant, arrogant that he’s at the center of the world.” 

Hadrian did not disagree with that assessment. But it still puzzled him the android’s methods of arriving at these conclusions. What did it want? And what it mean for them? These minions around them were nominally Wang’s; what did they think about the android’s insults?

“You needn’t worry about these men’s feelings,” the android said, reading Hadrian’s expression correctly. “They’ll obey me. They see me as someone who has a good command of the situation. But it is true, we need someone else to command this station after Wang’s death. Someone more … malleable. It is time for me to contact your father.” It walked over to the console. The guards tensed as Antony shifted, their weapons trained on both of them.

The tension was thick that even an electro-axe couldn’t cut through. Hadrian watched as the screen changed and beeped. What was so odd about the scene, Hadrian wondered. It was a routine text communication, despite the extraordinary contents. He rather thought the news of his miraculous survival and reappearance would not be taken well by his father.

Then Hadrian realized why: it was that the message was sent in such a manner Hadrian was accustomed to. Through a Familiar connection. 

There were no couriers here, and while space settlements in the Cluster Core were connected to the information networks by satellite, this was not one of them.

“How are you doing that?” Hadrian managed out. The disbelief filtered into his voice despite his best efforts. “There isn’t a Familiar to link to Yung’an for you.”

“You seem to forget the other half of what you found so objectionable to our experiments here, master Hadrian,” the android said. “The use of Unbonded Familiars.”

“A Core without a body is dormant,” Hadrian said. He was too bitterly acquainted with that fact. “Even if you implant it in the most powerful machine ever, it can’t function actively, at least not in the way you’re suggesting. And without a psion to guide it ….”

“But I am a forma body,” the android said. “And a very well made one too, if I do say so myself. My body can manage short transmissions with another Familiar just as any Unbonded Familiar can retain her consciousness for a short period.”

“You’re … a Familiar?” Antony was incredulous. It was one matter to base a computer program on the Core, but it was unheard of to mix human and Familiar neural activity. Not to mention the stability the psion’s mental anchor provided. 

It would make sense, given the android’s untethered megalomania, that it had a Familiar Core. Other Familiars sounded like him sometimes in their arrogance and disdain for humans. Incandescence and Luminosity were two who came to mind. Their attitudes, however, were mitigated by their Bond with other humans.

“Familiars without a Bond tend to become unhinged,” Antony said. “Or dormant. Familiars without a psion can’t learn. I’m not being arrogant; that’s just reality.”

“You forget part of my matrix is human,” the android said dryly. “It seems you two are forgetting a lot about my nature. And the point of having the Bond is to use the human sentience to help the Familiar Core achieve that. With my matrix being a mix of both, I don’t need psions anymore.” 

It looked at Hadrian. “It could be useful in creating a new body for your Familiar. You know … after what your friend there did to her.”

“You’re not going to divide us,” Hadrian said. It still stung, the memory of what had happened. “Besides, you’re trying to kill us both. I’m not going to make it easier for you.” 

The android laughed. “True. Forgive my clumsy attempt. But you should know what you’re missing on. Die knowing you had the opportunity to replace the one precious thing in your life that loved you.”

Antony tightened besides Hadrian. The android shot a glance scornfully at him.

“You don’t think I couldn’t pick up on the conflict between you two? Your body language gave it away. I don’t know what you did, Master Antony, but you hurt Master Hadrian terribly. It’s so amusing to see.”

Antony’s face contorted in a combination of anger and guilt. He too was recalling the same events that ran through Hadrian’s head, pressing like hot steel in its painfulness.

Hadrian took in a deep breath. He had to let go of this. “I don’t blame you,” he said abruptly. 

Antony spun to him, his eyes widening. 

“I don’t blame you,” Hadrian repeated. “Not anymore. It was an accident and a misunderstanding. What happened was my fault as well as yours. I have as much fault to bear as you do.”

“I am sorry,” Antony said. “I should never have acted without thinking you might want something different. We’ve been so close, and I just want to protect you, that I forget you’re your own person.”

That was all Hadrian wanted to hear. “I do want you to protect me,” Hadrian said. “But I want to protect you too. You can’t just make decisions for me and like I need to be left behind. I want to be by your side.”

“I see that now.” Tenderness suffused their connection.

Clapping from the android jarred the moment. It sneered at them both. “That’s touching. I had wanted you both to suffer a little more before I send you on your way, but I guess I’ll have to satisfy myself by dancing on your corpses. Don’t worry, I plan to take both of you to the Preceptor once I’m through with you. He’ll want to see that the threat is gone.” The android gazed at Antony thoughtfully. “Think of the implication for your Clan when the Preceptor finds out you’ve betrayed him. Do you think he’ll attempt to wipe Fragrant Orbital out once and for all?”

Blind rage filled Hadrian, blind rage that was not his own. He cried, shouting as Antony raised his rifles, firing –

The explosive set on the tank detonated. The glass shattered, cascading down upon them in brilliant fragments while the impact knocked Hadrian to the ground. 

He was blinded, deafened. Heat pressed against him, on all sides, shock and surprise coming from the survivors closing in like an insect in a jar –

Hadrian fired at the first movement that caught his attention. At the same time, there was a second, deeper rumble under his feet.

Hadrian scrambled up. That wasn’t the station’s generators, he hoped. The blast from the explosive was powerful, and this entire level had been decimated, with bodies strewn with bits of steel and plastic from the broken consoles. Wires hung out like stringy veins.

He stared at the dead man that he had just killed. He had no time to dwell on it – more ran at him, firing –

Antony dragged him down. The bolts of light hit the wrecked walls, leaving charred marks in their wake. 

“Forgot about that,” he panted. He flushed with exertion and excitement, and there was a shine in his eyes. “Should we make a run for it?”

Through the haze of smoke, the android called out: “Well, I didn’t expect that. You know you could have destroyed this entire level and killed yourselves too, right? Does this mean I need to account for human stupidity the next time I deal with you?”

“Even with a third of them dead, we’re still outnumbered,” Antony whispered. “You make a run for it. I’ll buy us some time.”

Hadrian stayed where he was. “I’m not going anywhere without you. We’ve just talked about this.”

A glimmer of amusement at this. “So we did,” Antony said. “Let’s try something else. You watch my back while I take out the android.”

“Deal.” They picked themselves up, Hadrian throwing himself to the side, bracing himself to shoot.

New impressions entered his mind, strong presences formed by only the mind of psions. Flashes jousted at the main entrance. There were others engaged in battle with the guards

It was Antony’s acolytes, Marcus and Gaius. 

Hadrian had no time to be thankful; his eyes came upon Antony and the android, struggling unarmed now, Antony’s rifles scattered to the sides. The android’s hands grappled with Antony, the two wrestling in the middle of burning chaos.

There was no opening for Hadrian to aim cleanly at the android. For the second time, he was a helpless bystander, watching –

Antony managed to grab the android and tossed him aside. The android hit a bank of consoles with a thud. It recovered, pushing off with his feet to rush at Antony.

Antony grabbed a discarded rifle and aimed. Hadrian watched the pulse hit the android; it plummeted to the ground, its eyes flashing a series of colors –

And then it went blank. It stilled. 

Hadrian limped gingerly toward Antony, his legs somehow heavy despite the weak gravity onboard. “You did it.” 

Fighting still continued at the end of the hall. Antony glanced over at Hadrian. “I wonder how my acolytes found me.”

They moved slowly, Hadrian supporting Antony’s weight. Hadrian did not notice until now that one of Antony’s leg was bent at an awkward angle and another arm hung unused. He had been hurt sometime between the explosion and the fight with the android, his reflex and augmentation taking over to shunt the pain aside to fight. 

Even so, it took tremendous willpower to ignore and Hadrian wished he had done more to protect Antony. 

The resisting guards took in Wang’s dead body and the android’s prone figure — and froze. They raised their hands in surrender, dropping their weapons. They knew it was hopeless. And pointless; without the fear of these two cruel masters to keep them in line, their resolve folded.

“Sir!” The acolytes greeted Antony, keeping a watchful eye on the capitulated men. They spared Hadrian only a cursory once-over. 

“What are you doing here?” Antony asked. “How did you find us?”

“We tracked you after the android took off,” Gaius said, shooting a look at it. “Since you didn’t jump space and was traveling at a pace that was well within the range of our sensors, it wasn’t difficult to find you. We did lose you for a bit in that asteroid field. But Marcus here,” he clapped said Marcus on the back heartily, “managed to calculate through some absurdly complicated equation where you were.” He glanced around. “What is this place, sir? From first glance, it look like a lab. We saw Luminosity fighting in the hangar with the other guards. What is going on?”

“It’s a very long story, but the gist is that this is a lab for the Preceptor.”

“The Preceptor, sir?” Gaius’ face took on a reverential awe at the name. “Lord Julius?” 

“I hope there hasn’t been a second one since the time I was gone,” Hadrian said dryly, irked by Gaius’ attitude. He didn’t like the hero worship that surrounded his father like a cult. What did that make him, he wondered? The fallen saint? 

Antony chuckled. More like the devil.

That’s ridiculous. I’m much too handsome to be the devil. Perhaps you’re the devil, tempting me into madness.

You’ve been taking the lead on everything, Antony thought reasonably. If anything, you’re the one tempting me.

Hadrian stopped, seeing the confused expressions from Gaius and Marcus, self-conscious of the faces he had been making. He forgot how telepathic conversations appeared to those who remained excluded from them. 

“This is the Preceptor’s son,” Antony said swiftly, to cover up the awkward gap that followed. “Hadrian Lee.”

They gaped at him.

“The Hadrian Lee?” Hadrian was pleased that Gaius sounded even more astonished.

Hadrian bowed a little. “At your service.”

Marcus squinted at him. “I thought you were dead. You don’t look dead.”

“Marcus!” Gaius was appalled while Hadrian smothered his laughter.

Marcus continued blithely: “You don’t look like the second son of the Preceptor. In fact, you look no more than a lowly tech on a tiny space station.”

“That’s enough, Marcus,” Antony snapped. Marcus quieted, glaring at Hadrian in a way that plainly told he only refrained out of respect for Antony.

“Hadrian is my … is very special to me,” Antony said, “and I want you two to treat him as you would me. You two might even learn something from him. His experience isn’t easily matched, not even at the Academy.”

“I’d like to think that I’m much better-looking than those professors there too,” Hadrian added with a wink at Gaius. Marcus he would work on winning over, but Hadrian knew to pick the low-hanging fruits first.

“I don’t know,” Antony said, smirking at Hadrian, “some of the younger proctors are quite charming, in that shy bookish short of way.”

“You’re welcome to seek them out for company then,” Hadrian said rather coldly. “I promise I won’t throw them against the wall in a jealous rage like you.”

Antony drew him in with one arm. Hadrian scowled, yet still melted against the embrace. They were both still sweaty, their clothes sticking to the skin. Though Antony’s bio-augmented systems had begun the accelerated healing process, Antony still leaned unevenly on one leg. He needed medical attention as quickly as possible.

“I’m assuming you took the shuttle to find us,” Hadrian said the two acolytes. They were rather stunned speechless at this display of affection from their master to what they had previously known as a stray picked up from a remote space station. 

They nodded.

“It’s next to Luminosity, master Hadrian,” Gaius said, finding his tongue. 

“Right. Let’s go.” Luminosity might have an emergency kit on hand, but it would still be much more comfortable for Hadrian to stretch out in the shuttle as they attended his wounds. Hadrian blushed, at the memory of how he had accidentally commandeered Antony’s bedroom.

~~

Luminosity greeted them in the hangar with a blast of her lights.

“I was worried about you two,” she said over her speakers. “And these two idiots here” – referring to the acolytes – “they just ran up into the hangar, firing at everything.”

“Thanks for holding on for us,” Antony said. Without her bearing the brunt of the attackers, they would have never made it out here alive. No matter how well-trained or armed they were, defeating a hundred men with pulse rifles was a tall order, one nearly impossible to fill, even for two, four psions. The gruesome toll of Luminosity’s battle littered the floor, with chunks of the hangar among the bodies and the unmistakable burn marks from the beamers. 

“We need to go as quickly as possible,” she said. “This entire station is unstable – there seemed to have been a chain reaction set off to disable the life support.”

Antony turned to stare at Hadrian. “I thought you were only planning to destroy the consoles.”

“The systems are interconnected,” Luminosity explained impatiently. “When you blew up the consoles, it set off a chain reaction that led to the generators. Within a few minutes, this station will become nothing but a floating hulk.”

“We need to leave,” Hadrian said in alarm. 

“Also, I detected an unusual signal. It was partly a routine transmission, and partly similar to a Familiar transmission. It’s encrypted in a way that I couldn’t intercept or prevent it, but from the direction of it, it seems to be to Yung’an.”

“Damn.” Hadrian had hoped it would have failed. Now his father would know for certain he was back and had wrecked his lab. 

~~

Hadrian reluctantly allowed himself to be guided out of the room while Marcus ministered to Antony. He would have insisted on remaining, but the space was cramped as it was, and the contention would have only disturbed Antony’s recovery.

Antony was mending at a rapid clip; his injuries had looked worse than they actually were, and now that the superficial wounds had been closed, it was like nothing had happened. But Marcus still insisted that Antony needed rest, glowering when Hadrian tried to enter.

“Master Antony will be fine,” Gaius said with deferential gentleness. He sat with Hadrian outside the bedroom, watching the stars flicker by. It was a simulation; they were moving at too fast a speed for visual change. If Hadrian looked out the glass at this exact moment, everything would be stationary. 

“I … I know that,” Hadrian said. “Antony’s a tough bastard. He won’t let something so silly as a broken leg stand in his way.” 

“He seems a lot happier,” Gaius said.

“Does he?” Hadrian wouldn’t know. He had spent the last few years in a self-induced stasis. 

“Ever since he met you – again, I should say – on Huang Station, he’s been so much brighter than he has been.”

“Really?” Hadrian was curious to hear more. “You’re his acolyte, you and Marcus? Has he been a hard master?”

“No, on the contrary. He’s strict but attentive; all the other apprentices were jealous that we were chosen to be his acolytes. He has quite the reputation as a hero, you know? But then, you were there with Master Antony, side by side.”

It didn’t surprise Hadrian that Antony was sought-after by the apprentices, or that he was a good teacher. Antony had never failed at anything he set his mind to, and he had valuable experiences to impart to the next generation.

It was interesting that the Cheung’s had a different system of training their psions than all the other Clans. They alone held to the rather antiquated system of tutorial instruction, rather than the larger group lectures that all the others, including the Lees, conducted. Perhaps it was a product of them ruling a cosmopolitan galactic city; there were so many options that they had decided the old ways were best. 

But all the education would mean nothing if a psion could not Bond with a Familiar. 

“I’m due to Bond with one soon,” Gaius said, picking up on Hadrian’s flashes of memory. “I’m nervous,” he confessed. “I know there can be … unforeseen obstacles.”

“You will be alright,” Hadrian reassured him. He pushed aside the burst of despondency, both at the reminder of Incandescence’s loss and how he had felt so ashamed of being unable to Bond. “It’s up to the Familiar as much as you. They don’t reject you because they think you’re flawed; sometimes it is just a matter of compatible brain chemistry and luck.”

“I know that,” Gaius said. “And Master Antony had told us a tale of a psion he admired who couldn’t Bond with a Familiar until the two came upon each other in an ancient spacefort, of all places, and went on to find qualities within himself that saved the entire psion community.”

That was him … even after all that had happened, Antony held him in high enough regard to share that story to motivate his acolytes. 

“Yes.” Hadrian, against all odds, managed to keep control over a voice that threatened to shake. “Don’t stress too much about it. Maybe you’ll be the next great hero.”

Gaius laughed, teased out of his moroseness. “I’ll be thankful if we could get back to the Orbital so I can meet my Familiar,” he said. “We still have to catch up to the cosmoliner, and who knows how long that will take?”

They had decided that waiting for another cosmoliner at Huang Station was too risky; it would draw renewed attention to Darren and how he had helped Hadrian. Not to mention, there wasn’t one scheduled to visit for another month. This one only came to the Huang Station because Antony had persuaded the Captain-Steersman to make a detour from his usual route. They could no longer afford delays, now that his father knew Hadrian was back.

Hadrian stared out every few minutes, convinced that a battleliner would appear to blast their shuttle into smithereens. Luminosity flew as escort, but even that wouldn’t be enough if a squadron came upon them. 

There was also the danger of being detained or attacked on the cosmoliner. From his understanding of the situation, however, it would be too blatant, drawing attention to a problem Lord Julius would want to keep hidden. 

Gaius and Marcus had discussed the political situation with them: opposition to the Preceptor was more apparent now in the Convocation. It still remained amorphous; Hadrian’s father had managed to consolidate his hold over the Protectorate’s vast bureaucracy and maintained the respect and loyalty of most psions. Even the most outspoken regarded Lord Julius as the man who saved them from the depredations of the old Protector. 

And the Clans benefited from Lord Julius’s rule. The psions were more deeply integrated into general society than ever before, taking on the role of arbiter in addition to their old roles as trusted middlemen. No psion could argue they had not prospered under Hadrian’s father. That made it much more difficult to confront him openly. Hadrian might not be able to find the public support he needed. 

The Convocation was the only conceivable arena where Hadrian could challenge and exploit any possible fissures in his father’s rule. The Preceptor depended on the goodwill of the other psion Clans. Without wrestling it from his father, there would be no peaceful resolution. 

“It’ll work out,” Gaius ventured. Antony had informed them of the happenings, the reason why they went to the lab station, what Hadrian had discovered, the reason for his exile. Gaius had accepted his explanation without question, taking the revelations far better than Hadrian would have in his stead.

“I suppose so,” Hadrian said. He changed the subject. “So we’re going straight to Yung’an after we load onto the cosmoliner?”

“Yes,” Antony said, coming out of his room. He was supported on one side by Marcus, who eyed Hadrian with protective distrust as Hadrian shifted to make room for Antony besides him. “The original plan was to go back to the Orbital and regroup, but we don’t have any time to waste. Especially now that we lost precious time by having to search for the cosmoliner. It’s a good thing we know the scheduled route.” 

“And you’re sure we won’t be detained by a squadron?”

“No,” Antony said. “We’ll reach the cosmoliner tomorrow. There’s no presence of the Protectorate military here. And your father won’t want to deal with the questions from the psions if they are asked to detain one of the Cheung’s ships.” 

“My father will be looking for us. Won’t the spaceports and starports be searched?”

“I haven’t thought of that,” Antony confessed. “I would think they wouldn’t dare intrude on our ship, but now that your father knows ….” He left unspoken the possibility any possible misstep would bring the wrath of the Preceptor on not just their little band of four, but Antony’s entire Clan.

It wasn’t possible to sneak into Yung’an again. Hadrian had done it once but without Incandescence’s stealth technology, there was no chance of Hadrian even nearing the system without triggering the massive security network. And the oversights allowing Hadrian to slip through had been corrected. Hadrian fixed some of the bugs himself. It had been years, and no doubt they built on that foundation. 

“If only Incandescence was here,” Hadrian said wistfully. “Her cloaking would give us an edge. We need the element of surprise now, more than ever.” He could also use her moral support.

“That’s your old ship, right?” Marcus said. 

Hadrian jerked his head in surprise. He hadn’t expected Marcus to be aware of that. “Yes. And Familiar.”

“The ship is in the museum on the Lee Clanship,” Marcus said. “Gaius, you wanted to go see it, remember?”

Gaius looked embarrassed. “I did. It’s part of the exhibit on Familiars; I was planning to visit as part of my preparation for the Bonding.”

“I don’t think getting onto the Clanship will be any easier,” Hadrian said. It was even better guarded than the Yung’an system, and with better cybersecurity. Hadrian had never once evaded detection while he was living there. But then, he had been young and green. “We don’t even know where it is at the moment.”

Hadrian also didn’t know if he could face going back. Now that he remembered, he did not possess the fondest of feelings for his life then. 

Antony tapped his fingers. “Actually, it’ll be easier to get onboard. I’m supposed to meet with your brother for talks regarding this new joint project in Fou’huang silks. It’ll be him and another representative from the Cloud Ant consortium.”

“Won’t security be even tighter with all these VIPs?”

“Acting like nothing is wrong will lull the enemy,” Antony said. “And your father won’t be expecting us to go to the Clanship. If we disguise you as part of the consortium’s delegation, we might be able to get you onboard.”

“Excuse me, sir, but why are we going to the Clanship?” Marcus asked. “And won’t people recognize Master Hadrian? Given that it was his home?”

“I don’t have a very high public profile,” Hadrian said, “so unless those acquainted with the family are there for the reception, they might not recognize me. We’re going to steal back my ship.”

The audacity of the plan appealed to him. Finally, they were doing something. Going on the offensive instead of merely reacting to events. 

“Even so,” Marcus frowned, “it still sounds risky to me. And I’m almost certain your brother will be there to receive the consortium’s guests, given how important this is.”

Hadrian had not thought about Xander in so long, caught up in his own turmoil. How was he? They had not shared the closest of fraternal bonds, but they still cared for each other in their own way. 

He didn’t want to have Xander choose between his brother and his father. It would tear him apart.

Or perhaps his brother had already sided with his father, and Hadrian would lose the last family member he had. 

“With disguises and careful planning, I think it should work,” Hadrian said finally. “My brother is a very logical man, but logic sometimes blinds one to the unexpected. He won’t be expecting that a lowly aide would be his own brother, not if I changed my appearance and shielded my mind.”

“How will we embed you into the consortium’s delegation?”

“That’s easily done,” Antony said. “I’ll just inform the representative that he’s my acolyte and interested in learning the financial side of the negotiations. Plenty of psions take on a double role, especially now, given our new level of involvement.”

Marcus measured Hadrian intently. Hadrian met his eyes. 

“I suppose I can help you work on your disguises,” Marcus said. “I’ve some experience in that.”

~~  
Marcus, it turned out, demonstrated a deft hand at hiding Hadrian’s more noticeable features.

“Hold still,” he said irritably when Hadrian fidgeted. He applied a silicone-based mold to Hadrian’s face to round out his cheeks. “You’ll ruin the effect.”

“Sorry.” Hadrian tried to ignore the cold feel of the material. “Are you sure this will be enough? They’ll have scanners onboard that can probably read every detail. Retinal patterns, fingerprints, voice, height, weight, body chemistry, skeletal structure, and brainwaves.” 

“This was your idea.” Marcus rummaged through the kit, looking for something. “I seem to recall you were the one who was the most vocal proponent.” 

“Yes – but –”

“I’m going to inject you with a temporary chemical and DNA dye that will distort the readings from them. It’ll take effect after you pass the decontamination chamber and right before the security checks. You’ll have a window of a few seconds between for it to activate.” He frowned at Hadrian. “I obviously can’t change anything about your body, not the extent without physical operations, but you’re not that special. Another youngish fit male of average height.” 

“Youngish? I’m actually quite young, you know. The years spent in stasis don’t count towards my physical age.” The joke fell flat. Marcus continued surveying Hadrian like a distasteful stain on the otherwise pristine walls. Hadrian stifled his sigh. Though Marcus hid his thoughts well, the dislike still came strong. 

“What about fingerprints and retinal patterns? I can probably alter the brainwaves to some extent given I’m a psion, but I can’t do anything about those two. And if the scans are too distorted, it might raise the alarm anyways.”

“Well—” Marcus gave Hadrian a nasty smile – “then you’ll have to rethink your plan then. I’m not a magician – I’m not given either the time or the resources to turn you into an entirely different person.”

Hadrian’s frustration exploded. “What is your problem with me? I understand you distrusted me when you didn’t know who I was, but now you do. Now you know that I’m not some stranger who means your master harm. You don’t have to like me, but this hostility is grating. Either call me out or stop sniping.” Hadrian hoped the man wouldn’t call him out – although similar to Hadrian in their slight frames, Hadrian didn’t question that Marcus was a much better fighter than he. 

Marcus spoke scornfully. “I’m not going to call out someone who’s technically my elder. It’s disgraceful.” The implication being that Hadrian didn’t understand social niceties as simple as this equally shameful. 

Biting back his retorts, Hadrian instead tried to relax. “I don’t know how to prove to you that I mean Antony no harm. I would never harm him.” He hurt me more than I had him, Hadrian thought.

“There! You see that?”

“What?” 

“Your selfish victimhood attitude. Don’t bother denying it; I’m an empath too, remember? You can’t hide your emotions from me.” Marcus glared at Hadrian. 

“I—” Hadrian opened his mouth to defend himself but ended in a confused silence. 

“You can’t deny it.” Marcus looked Hadrian directly in the eye. “You haven’t been around Master Antony all these past years. It’s like he was walking around with the light snuffed out of him.”

Gaius had alluded to this too. Hadrian’s curiosity overcame his upset. “What happened?”

“He had all but withdrawn from the world. Shut out everyone, even his father. You never see him smile anymore. And he disappeared once or twice a week to look for something — which turned out to be you —returning more pained than ever.”

Marcus’ memories broke through Hadrian: a wan Antony sitting alone at his table, speaking only the bare word to even his father; standing on the ramparts of the Cheung Residency, a solitary figure as light faded from the atmospheric membrane, drowned by the incoming darkness. Even through someone else’s recollections, Hadrian recognized the palpable loneliness in that silhouette. 

They rammed into Hadrian with the force of a speeding magno-rail. Hadrian had been blinded by his own pain not to realize that it wounded Antony too. And while Hadrian had the luxury of forgetting, Antony had not – the sorrow had remained with Antony every waking moment.

Hadrian had avoided being with Antony alone, and Antony had not pressed, giving Hadrian a respectful distance, though Hadrian had managed to convince Antony to stay within his chamber, Hadrian sleeping on the shuttle couches. But even from that distance, their mind-meld had only weakened, not disappeared, and Hadrian sometimes caught that shock of emotion accompanying an intense dream. 

“I can’t promise anything won’t happen again,” Hadrian said finally. “But you have my word that I will never hurt Antony. I did before and I don’t intend to again.”

Marcus’ face showed no give, but the tense posture eased slightly. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Hadrian acknowledged that as a win. He knew Marcus wouldn’t forgive him, not so easily, nor so willingly. It was enough for Hadrian to know that someone was as fierce in safeguarding Antony as he hoped he might be. 

It seemed where the thought went, the intended was never far away. Antony joined them.

“Making progress, I see.” He grinned at Hadrian. “I can barely recognize you.” The smile slipped a little at the palpable tension that remained. “Anything wrong?”

“Just uncomfortable,” Hadrian said, “and a little worried. What if my brother recognizes me? Or even anyone else?”

“Then run like hell. Run back to the ship and take off. We’ll hold them off as long as we can until you disappear from.”

“I’m not going to let you take that risk for me,” Hadrian said, placing a hand over Antony’s. “I’m not going to let you get hurt again because of me.”

Again? Antony raised an eyebrow. What do you mean?

Hadrian didn’t respond, but he thought he caught a slight hint of approval from Marcus. 

“You’re not going to risk yourself and your acolytes for this,” Hadrian said. “I’ll tell everyone I coerced you to join me.”

Antony laughed. “How do you think you plan on convincing everyone that?”

“Well … perhaps seduced is a better word. I might not appear like it right now, but I am quite a looker, you know.”

Antony laughed and pulled him in. Marcus took the silent cue and bowed discreetly his leave, departing as he went with a single glance at Hadrian. It plainly told Hadrian that Marcus would hold Hadrian to his word.

“I suppose I should take advantage and remember you like this,” Antony said, not releasing Hadrian. “I don’t think I’ll see you like this soon.”

“No,” Hadrian leaned in to kiss Antony. There was only a small muffle of surprise as their lips met. “But let’s not think about that and enjoy the moment right now.”

~~  
Hadrian had never expected to return to his Clanship in a blaze of glory, but he had never thought he would have to creep aboard pretending as an outsider. He held his breath as the decontamination and security scans completed, praying that whatever technological magic Marcus used actually worked. 

He restrained himself from breathing a sigh of relief as he was ushered through without trouble. Though it appeared that the danger was over, invisible eyes still watched everywhere; any hint that he wasn’t supposed to be here would draw security on him like flies to honey. 

Hadrian forced himself out of the pull of nostalgia as he treaded behind the delegation from the consortium. Their curiosity at being let aboard the exotic world of a psion Clanship filled his mind, and instead of barricading himself from it, Hadrian allowed it in hopes of it combating him reminiscing. 

They took in the sights with wonder, watching the psions robed in white walking past like a monastic order from some distant mythology and breathing in air somehow fresh and clean despite being recycled and reused for hundreds of years.

As far as Hadrian knew, Clanships had wandered the stars for uncounted generations, from the height of the Old Dynasty to the current-day era. Forged from long-lost technology in composite material that defied all attempts at reproduction, Clanships were a marvel that somehow combined aesthetic and utility. They were made to withstand the harsh environment of space while nurturing a population of thousands, even millions, as they traversed the galaxy. 

Originally meant to be traveling garrisons for the psychic soldiers, Clanships had become the self-contained worlds where Old Dynasty practices endured. As psions were products a military breeding program, the values of heritage and hierarchy were paramount. 

No wonder so many felt the weight of tradition on their backs. 

They treaded on paths of silver through soaring spires under domes that consisted of their own biosphere, surrounded by the green of trees, the blue of the skies and the sea, the snow-capped mountains, and even the sandy brown of deserts. 

Hadrian walked submerged in the amazement of the outsiders. They were led by a courteous young man who pointed out interesting aspects of the Clanship to the party. 

“Your meeting will take place on the bridge deck,” he explained as they entered the elevator. “I believe Master Antony and the party from the Cheungs have already arrived. They will meet you in the boardroom.”

Hadrian knew for a certainty that they had; they had slipped him with only the briefest of introduction into the consortium delegation’s midst. He had been accepted at face value, the consortium deeming Hadrian just another acolyte under training. 

Hadrian went through the plan in his head. While Antony and the others were engaged in the negotiations for this new business venture of theirs, Hadrian would find some excuse to slip out and recover his Familiar starfighter. Incandescence’s Core hung around his neck, on his skin. It beat like a second heart. 

He had refused Antony’s offer to join him, arguing that it would only attract more attention. Hadrian knew his way around the Clanship. He had his spy codes at the ready to disable the watching security at the Museum. Once he slipped in the Core into the starfighter, hopefully it would be enough to wake the ship.

It was a simple enough plan, but one contingent on no one recognizing him. Marcus’ alterations were good, but soon the chemical dye would be flushed out of his system. Hadrian only hoped the programs monitoring the Clanship wouldn’t register the change. 

They stopped outside a set of double doors leading into the meeting chamber. Next to it was the bridge, the nerve center of the entire ship and the heart of the Lee Clan. A tug of memory so strong it almost pulled him under – Hadrian standing on the dais with his brother, while the giant holo-projection of his father declared himself the Preceptor, the other psions kneeling in one giant wave –

Hadrian tore himself violently out of it – and almost walked into his brother.

Xander had not changed all these years. Still the aloof aristocrat, with his Familiar wolf Fidelity by his side, he steadied Hadrian before Hadrian made an undignified fall. 

“Be careful,” Xander said, almost hauling Hadrian upright. “Our gravity stabilizers might be less than a planet’s, but it still hurts to fall.”

“Thank you,” Hadrian said, extricating himself. “Sir,” he added belatedly, remembering he wasn’t the wayward younger brother here, but a minor trainee sent to shadow in silence. He bowed, hoping the angle was appropriately deep, without a hint of the irony he usually gave. 

His brother examined Hadrian with sharpened eyes. “You should be more careful. It would be an inauspicious start to our negotiations if one of you spend it in the medical bay.”

Hadrian made an involuntary face.

“Not many enjoy a stay there,” Xander said, still watching Hadrian. “I knew someone who used to try every trick to get out, including hacking into the medic’s records. I hope you won’t be so … mischievous.” 

Hadrian blocked his mind strongly to prevent Xander from glimpsing Hadrian recall the incident Xander referred to. Hadrian had been severely reprimanded by his father, his brother, and the medic. 

“I’m sure he won’t,” Antony interrupted smoothly. He strode out from the elevator banks, with Marcus and Gaius trailing behind him. “Your systems is much too secured to be easily breached.” He turned and gave an impassive glance at Hadrian. “If you feel unwell, you should retire to your chambers for the moment.”

“Would he not want to stay for the negotiations?” Fidelity asked, her paws clawing at the floor. “It wouldn’t be too strenuous. I expect you are here to observe, aren’t you?”

Hadrian nodded. 

“It’s only the first stages,” Antony said. Despite his coolness, Antony’s nervousness came in muffled through Hadrian’s mental barricade. “There will be plenty of time for him to observe. Nothing happens in the opening rounds anyways.” 

Xander turned to Antony. “If you insist,” he said neutrally. “This young man might benefit from some rest. Space travel is not the most pleasant of experiences.” 

Hadrian smiled politely, trying to still the trembling in his fingers. He had a suspicion that Xander suspected something. His brother always did have an acute intuition, Hadrian thought. Unfortunately, that was now directed towards him, the full spotlight of his attention on Hadrian when Hadrian least wanted it.

“You should go,” Xander repeated with a brief smile. “Master Antony is right; nothing really happens on the first day.” 

Hadrian bowed low, heading to the elevator banks, only stopping his feet from breaking into a run. 

“Don’t you want a guide to show you to your suite?” his brother called out.

Damn. Had he blown his cover? “Of course. Forgive me; I was overeager to see my chambers. It has been a long journey, and as you have said, space travel is not the best experience.”

Fidelity walked up, circling him, her bushy tail flexing upright, wagging being too undignified a word to describe it. 

“Let us know if you need anything,” she said. “Life onboard is simple but it is sufficient, and we hope you’ll find it pleasant.”

“Yes, of course. I’m ever grateful for your hospitality, master Familiar.” Hadrian wanted to shout at the young guide who gestured with courtesy to hurry.

“Feel better,” Xander said. “May we meet again soon.”

~~

The guide led him to quarters complete with wood paneling and thick carpet. Even though the rooms were designed with the aim of comfort and leisure in mind, Hadrian was still jumpy from encountering his brother and his Familiar.

Had his brother known? Hadrian hoped not, even though part of him thought Xander should be acquainted enough with his brother’s details to recognize him.

Hadrian had no inkling of anything from his brother; the muted quality of the emotions and memories he received through his mental shields and Xander’s natural tendency to guard himself made it difficult to tell. 

It was too late to retreat – he was already aboard, and he had involved too many people. Failure was not an option, and neither was inaction. 

Hadrian logged onto the guest console, clicking past the disclaimers and warnings that greeted him. It was like exercising an unused muscle, breaking into the Clanship networks manually. It was not entirely unwelcomed. Back to the old days, he thought with a grin. 

He circumvented the restrictions on guest account and stared at the black screen awaiting his orders. First, he found all the hidden vulnerabilities in the system that he had marked so long ago. Next, he inserted the codes that rendered the functions that activated when the monitors anticipated a threat nonsense. It was subtle enough that they continued to work, but their ability to alert the proper authorities or respond with more active defenses — such as stun gas or trap fields — became dormant. That way, the automatic protocols on the lookout for malware wouldn’t be triggered. 

Hadrian still had to account for the possibility of an actual human watching. He created a loop, similar to what the android used on Huang Station, which erased and replayed a segment of the recording. 

Sitting back, Hadrian tried to think of any other angles he missed. He hoped it would be enough; he couldn’t even carry a concealed firearm with him. Nor did he want to. He didn’t want to shoot anyone. 

He set for the Clanship Museum, trying to look as unassuming as possible. Not many wandered around during this time. Hadrian had thought of an excuse: if anyone asked, he would tell them he was on the way to the medical bay. 

The Museum on the Lee Clanship was part shrine, part treasury. The scholars conducted research here, taught and lectured, and preserved objects deemed worthy to the community. 

Hadrian had spent much time sequestered here in his youth. He used to lose himself amongst the Old Dynasty artifacts and had studied here under the esteemed professors working on the relationship between Familiar node-connections and Old Dynasty technology. 

Walking along the busts of Clan Heads past, Hadrian was plunged back to his younger self. He had found a refuge here. He wasn’t just a failure who was so defective no Familiar would accept him.

He was jarred back to the present by Familiar fighters lined in two neat rows. Most of them were replicas of originals that were either lost in expeditions to uncharted space or combat. They gleamed dully under the light, a testament to the sacrifices the Lees had made over the generations safeguarding the Protectorate. Some of them were models of ones shot down and destroyed during the revolution. 

Hadrian followed the path until he came to his own. Unlike many of the others, this one was real. Hadrian knew it anywhere. The Core pendant around his neck almost burned in recognition and eagerness to be reunited with its ship body.

Hadrian had no idea if any of this would work. Nothing like resurrecting a Familiar had ever been done before. Usually the psion was the one who died first, Hadrian thought with morbid amusement. And what if the Core had been so damaged along with the forma body that it would no longer function?

No, that wasn’t true. Hadrian had managed to speak with Incandescence while onboard Luminosity. It was not a stretch to think that Incandescence’s consciousness would be revived once she had a body again. It would a pity that she’d be limited to be a starfighter. She wouldn’t be free to wander the surface or space stations by his side but confined to either hangar or hold. 

It would be a small price to pay to bring her back. And forma bodies could always be reconstructed, though Hadrian wasn’t sure if they had the technology to recreate one on the caliber that a Familiar needed.

He took a deep breath, stepping to the ship.

“Are you trying to steal from the Museum now?” 

Hadrian’s blood ran cold. It was his brother. He was accompanied by his Familiar. The wolf watched him through pale blue eyes. 

“I – I’m just curious about a Familiar ship.” The words were mangled. He tried – and failed – to calm his racing heart and rising panic. He needed to pretend he was just a lost tourist, playing the truant out of his fascination with Familiars.

“You certainly are a truant,” Xander said coldly.

Hadrian froze. Xander had picked up Hadrian’s mood; there had been no hiding the intensity of it. With their fraternal ties and Hadrian’s strongly broadcasted emotions, Xander wouldn’t mistake Hadrian for a mere trainee anymore. 

There was no hiding Hadrian’s identity any longer. 

“Welcome back, Hadrian,” Fidelity said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes,” Xander said. “It certainly has been…. Brother.” He sat down on the ledge. 

Hadrian stilled his trembling and looked back at his brother. Now that his cover was blown, a certain calm settled over him. The Core pendant around his neck burned against his neck. It was a surprisingly anchor for him. 

“Hello, Xander.” Hadrian sat down too, keeping one eye on the wolf – particularly her teeth. There was no need to keep up the pretense. “How are you?”

“How do you think?” Xander glared at his brother. “After all the trouble you’ve caused, now you’re back?” 

“Well,” Hadrian gestured at the ship, “I’ll just be taking this and going. It’s not stealing if it’s mine to begin with.”

“Familiars don’t belong to any humans,” Fidelity said. “You know that.”

“You know what I mean,” Hadrian said. He refused to be goaded. “I’m not here to disrupt or destroy the Clanship, nor do I plan to hurt anyone. I just want to take my ship and leave.”

“And then what?” Xander’s gaze bored into Hadrian. “You can’t pilot it without its Core. Unless—”

Hadrian refused to answer that. It would only raise his hope, nebulous as it was already. 

“What do you plan to do even if you fly it out?” Xander asked. “You can’t take on father on your own. Or even with Antony Cheung by your side. His Clan is not going involve itself. You know this. But whatever you do, you’ll implicate them.”

Hadrian swallowed. “It’s not going to involve them.” His stare turned pleading. “You’ll testify to that, won’t you? If it comes to that, prevent any innocent lives being harmed.”

“And you? You don’t really think you can rebel against the full power of the Clans and the state. No matter how good you are, a Familiar-less psion won’t last a chance.”

“I’m not planning to rebel,” Hadrian said. “If you know so much about what my plans are, why don’t you suggest what I should do?”

“Disappear. Leave. I’ll pretend I’ve never seen you here.”

“Are you sure?” the wolf asked Xander. She turned to Hadrian distrustfully. “Can you trust him after the way he’s turned his back on the family?”

Xander raised his hand to silence her objections. Confusion mixed with surprise. Was Xander siding with him? Hadrian wasn’t sure the extent of his brother’s knowledge – whether Xander was aware of the forma program and the human experimentations, or had he only been informed of Hadrian’s infractions. Xander protected his thoughts and feelings too closely for Hadrian to know exactly what Xander was planning. 

Hadrian regarded his brother steadily. “I’m not going to do that. You know I’m not going to back down on this. Not when innocent people are being hurt. You can take me away, arrest me, or turn me in to father. But I won’t run and hide.”

“Your brother is offering you a chance at life,” Fidelity snarled. “I know why you did what you did. You even have a good reason for doing so. But your reasoning is flawed – sometimes sacrifices are necessary. You’ve been in the wars. You know that.”

“If we’re willing to make compromises, it weakens the integrity of all that we’ve built, all that we’re seeking to create. Every time we give way on our principles, they slip away, little by little. If you want to arrest me and turn me into my father, then do it.”

“No you won’t.” Antony stood in the doorway with his rifle pointed at Xander, a protective fury whipping around him. Behind Antony were Gaius and Marcus, each holding a handgun.

Hadrian wanted to shout for Antony to leave, even as his heart thumped at the sight of him.   
Despite this seeming advantage in number, Hadrian understood his brother was in control. Even a gesture would alert the watchers and set the system to neutralize the threat. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Xander said, still calmly on the ledge. Fidelity appeared bored, settling back on her haunches. “I can’t protect you if you get involved.”

“You will protect them? If anything happens?” Hadrian wanted his brother’s word. Xander didn’t promise lightly, but when he did, his pledge was steel-wrought. 

Xander didn’t respond. Hadrian swallowed, his shoulders constricted. Everything depended on Xander now – his mercy, his sense of morality. Hadrian didn’t know how to appeal to Xander’s better nature, but he had to.

Even if he opened himself up, would it be useful? 

Even as he did so, there was a collective reaction around the room. Antony stepped towards Hadrian, as though he wanted to create a physical barrier between his lover and the rest of the world. Gaius and Marcus both stepped back, embarrassed at being a part of so intimate a moment, and Fidelity shifted her posture to be in front of Xander. 

But it was Xander’s response that Hadrian cared about the most. Xander’s face was as smooth as the granite pillars of the chamber, and the walls of despair finally began to close in on Hadrian. He was so close, and yet he had still gambled away their future. 

“I need to get back to the meeting,” Xander said finally. 

Hadrian stared. 

“Put that rifle away and come back with me,” Xander told Antony. Antony did so, nonplussed by the non sequitur. Xander motioned for everyone to follow him. “I don’t know why we all took a sojourn to the Museum, but we need to return and outline a proposal for the contributions and guidelines for the consortium. Let’s not dawdle any longer.” He looked at his younger brother. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” Hadrian owed him that much. 

“Try not fight with our father and not to antagonize him. Remember that we are, after all, still one family.”

Hadrian saw only his brother’s parting back as he climbed into the cockpit. He nodded, even knowing that Xander wouldn’t see the gesture. His brother probably knew anyways.


	8. Chapter 8

They flew, racing against time and space. They had to reach the Old Dynasty space monitor circling Yung’le before anyone realized their true destination. 

Hadrian knew everything depended on stealth. He read through the latest stats on Yung’an’s system defenses. Even a brief scan highlighted how prodigious they were. 

It was saturated with sentries that alerted the patrols the moment an unidentified ship entered. Two full squadrons of frigates were on standby, complemented by two second-rate battleliners and a plethora of Familiars fighters. Fighting against that kind of firepower was certain death.

But they didn’t need to. Hadrian didn’t need to hold territory or attempting to neutralize any sort of military assets. He was merely trying to sneak onto a spacecraft.

Even so, Hadrian should not discount the probability of bloodshed. It grew higher the longer it took for them to land on the space monitor, the risk of being spotted and attacked rising while they were in the open.

Incandescence and Hadrian had regained their Bond, but it was weak and poorly integrated. There were gaps of silence when they conversed, as though Hadrian was working with an old console that occasionally froze.

He wasn’t sure what to do; this type of situation was unprecedented. Or at least there were no written records. Hadrian just remembered that from the moment he stepped into the cockpit, his body grew hot. From where the Core pendant touched his skin outwards, heat spread like returning inside after a long walk in the cold. He had been plunged into that pitch black which customarily accompanied entry into Incandescence’s mind. 

He had seen her in her cat form, waiting for him in the chamber. She had exuded a brightness and a welcome washing in waves over Hadrian. As he had touched her, light inundated the room, thrusting him back into reality. Hadrian had opened his eye to the peculiar double-vision of the psi-scape, figures and charts superimposed over the ship’s display.

What are our options? Hadrian asked as they approached the Yung’an system. Which systems are functional?

I’m able to engage the cloaking device, Incandescence replied, but because of the extensive damage, the duration would be much shorter than before. 

That’s not a problem, Antony thought. He had entered the link. Enter stealth mode and knock out the sentries around the space monitor and I’ll follow. 

Are you sure you want to join me? Hadrian asked Antony. It might be easier if I go alone. 

We’ve been over this, Antony replied patiently. We have to see this to the end. Together. 

But it would be easier for one person to infiltrate the monitor. Even if I knock out the sentries, how are you going to approach it? Nearing it at sub-light speed might alert the system defenses anyways.

I’m going to use what they call the Hadrian maneuver – jump space close enough to avoid the frigates that surround the moon. 

You have got to be joking; they do not call it that.

They do, Luminosity thought. I’ve seen lectures in the pilot training courses analyzing the flaws and advantages of jumping space rapidly at relatively short distances. Most agree it’s rather foolhardy and only the most skilled fliers should attempt it.

I suppose that’s a compliment, Incandescence thought with a burst of amusement. Though I believe most of the credit should go to Hadrian. Only a human would think of such an impulsive maneuver.

So the compliment should belong to me instead and not you, Hadrian teased his Familiar. 

Say that again and I’ll eject you into open space. 

Antony’s laugh touched all of them like rays from the sun. You should apologize to her, Hadrian. Or she’ll likely follow through with it.

Hadrian grinned to himself. Then: Alright, so I’ll lead in and take out the sentries and Antony will follow by jumping space close enough to avoid attention. At the same time, I’ll also knock out the communications onboard the monitor. 

Hadrian and Incandescence exited jumpspace, immediately scanning the area for the sentry drones. There were only a few around the moon: the existence of the Old Dynasty monitor was so secret that it even needed to be kept from most of the Space Command. Hadrian knocked those out with ease, not giving them the opportunity to detect an intruder.

Incandescence, where is the space monitor?

By my calculation, it should be arriving in orbit in front of you, she replied, the coordinates flashing across the panel.

It rose before them, the squat pagoda just as imposing as the first time Hadrian had laid eyes upon it. 

A beep signaled Antony’s ship appearing next to his. 

How do we enter? he asked. I don’t think we can just ask them to open the hangar. 

Incandescence, try this: use the access code from last time, but distort it with the IO90 security package. 

They waited with bated breath. One second … two ….

Every bit of time mattered; they needed to board before anyone noticed the latticework of surveillance around this volume of space had gone dark and Space Command sent someone to investigate. Or even more unluckily, a patrol came upon them.

Hadrian had no idea if the access code would work again – he had paired it with a decoder that attempted to match the verification process, altering the access code bit-by-bit should one part be rejected. 

The hangar doors opened. Hadrian almost choked with relief at the thud of the landing claw on the tarmac. So far, no problems. They had made it without any issues – and more importantly, they had arrived without any bloodshed. 

Antony emerged out of his ship the same time Hadrian did. 

“What do we do with them?” Antony asked, referring to their starfighters. “Just leave them here?”

“Incandescence can’t come with me,” Hadrian said. He resolutely ignore the sorrow of that fact. It was enough that he could be with her again. “Do you want Luminosity with us?”

I think it’s best if we stay together, Incandescence and I, Luminosity thought. Strength in numbers, and we have a better chance of fighting off any boarding attempts.

Alright. Be careful.

You too, Incandescence thought. Make sure you come back alive.

~~  
“Do we know where we’re going?” Antony asked. “And what are we planning to do?”

“This place and the lab in the Hsin Quadrant are the only two facilities for the forma program,” Hadrian said. “We’ve already destroyed the lab. Now we need to destroy this space monitor. I reckon that this here is the repository for the results, and the actual experiments and manufacturing was carried out at the lab. If we erase all the records onboard here, then the forma program would be essentially halted. They would need decades to restart the program.”  
That was all they could hope for. Hadrian was under no illusion now that he could put a permanent stop to it. His father would never change his mind, and there was no force in the galaxy strong enough to force him to do so. Not morality, not public or political pressure, and certainly not Hadrian’s word that this was against all the values they espoused. 

They walked carefully, cognizant of the risk that someone would chance upon them. For such an enormous ship, it was a little odd that everything seemed so ... quiet. Even the hangar was empty but for their two Familiars. It was disconcerting to be so deserted. 

Antony thought the same. “Where is everyone?”

Hadrian frowned. “I have no idea. I don’t even feel their minds around. Do you?”

Antony shook his head. “Not close by, at any rate.”

“Wait for a bit and let me access the ship system.” Hadrian took out his handheld and entered the space monitor’s cams. 

He saw nothing out of the ordinary; there were a smattering of people on each level. It looked like they were all simply busy at their stations. There was nothing wrong. Rather, it all appeared very normal. Not one person had detected their arrival. 

Antony sounded incredulous when Hadrian informed him. “I would be vexed at the poor security if I weren’t so grateful it works in our favor,” he said. “If I were in charge, you’d be caught and brought before me before you even landed.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Hadrian recalled how Antony had bluffed Hadrian into confessing him hacking Fragrant Orbital’s networks. No amount of technological prowess was able to defeat human error and intuition. It was a lesson Hadrian had learned the hard way, several times over. 

“And a guilty conscience,” Antony said, catching the tail end of Hadrian’s memory. “Don’t forget how quickly you admitted to it.”

“That was because you tricked me,” Hadrian growled. “I would have never done so if you hadn’t.”

“The only reason my trick worked was because of your conscience,” Antony said. “Don’t get annoyed about it; it’s good that you have one.” 

Was it? Hadrian was tempted to ask. The two of them would be happily luxuriating in the gardens of Yung’le right now if it weren’t for Hadrian’s conscience pushing him to become involved. 

“I don’t think I would have gotten to understand the person underneath the reserved shell if it weren’t for you involving yourself and bringing us together again,” Antony said. “We were on the verge of falling apart.”

The look he gave Hadrian was shattering in its trust. 

“Well,” Hadrian tried to ignore the heat blossoming across his face, “I’m glad you came with me, even if I did tell you to not come.”

“You also asked me to join you in the first place,” Antony said. “That invitation takes precedent over your other ones.” He grinned at Hadrian. “You’re stuck with me.” 

“I’m glad,” Hadrian said. And he really was. Despite the arduous paths that had brought them together, Hadrian was grateful for every setback, every misunderstanding that they had overcame. 

Antony leaned in for a quick kiss that left Hadrian breathless.

“Wish we can do more than that,” he said, “but consider that a down payment for later.” He gave Hadrian a heated look. “I think we need to catch up.”

Hadrian regretted that they hadn’t used the time together before to lose themselves in each other’s’ bodies. He had been so wrapped in his own petty misgivings and pride that seemed such a waste now. 

“Don’t blame yourself for that,” Antony said, pulling Hadrian in. “It wasn’t just pride and it wasn’t petty. You had your own issues to resolve before you could trust me, and I understand that. I’m glad you decided to, though. I missed you.”

Hadrian thought of Marcus and Gaius, each of whom in their own way had shown Hadrian that he wasn’t the only one hurt.

“I missed you too,” Hadrian said. He wanted to nestle himself into the crook of Antony’s arms. It brought a familiar comfort that Hadrian hadn’t even realized himself how much he had yearned for. 

Antony laughed, his breath brushing against Hadrian’s hair. 

“What?”

“I just realized how funny it would look to someone if they came upon us right now,” Antony said. “Maybe instead of worrying about fighting our way out, we can just tell them we came here for a quick lover’s tryst.”

“The place does have a certain eerie romanticism to it,” Hadrian admitted, glancing around. 

“Shall we press on? Where do we go to next?”

Hadrian consulted his handheld. “Well, we should try and disguise ourselves. I believe there is a supply closet up ahead that we can find spare crew outfits. This schematic doesn’t outline where the mainframe is. I’m making an educated guess it’s on the higher levels or at the bridge. I think we’re going to have find what we’re looking for the old fashion way.” 

“Should we be armed too?” Antony gestured at the rifle he took. 

Hadrian considered him. “I think it’s rather sexy, but it might give it away. Especially if you’re carrying a Fragrant Orbital manufactured pulse carbine.”

“Oh? You find this sexy?”

“Focus,” Hadrian said, even as a little grin played on his face. “We need to get in and around without causing too much attention. But we can’t just wander around defenseless. I have a small pistol on me, but it doesn’t have much charge left.”

“I have a dart-thrower, three knives, and a handgun in addition to the rifle. It’s enough for some small level of protection, but I don’t see it doing any good in a firefight.”

Hadrian ran his eyes over Antony. “How are you hiding so much on you?”

Antony winked at him. “Do you want to come here and find them yourself?”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “I am going to use them on you if you don’t concentrate. But as I was saying: If I get access to any console on this ship, I should be able to enter the mainframe and expunge all records of the experiments. It will be as if it never existed.”

“You’re not going to try and collect information to expose it anymore?”

“What’s the point?” Hadrian let out an exhausted breath. “It’s not like it would make much of a difference. No one would care, and all I would have done is cause needless division. Even if people do believe me, it would just tear the Clans apart. Family against family, friend against friend. Nothing useful would come out of it.” 

Seeing his brother forced Hadrian into that realization. Xander did not have to let him go; in fact, Xander should have detained him. Everything Hadrian knew about Xander had told him Xander would do so. It was only the intervention of an unexpected fraternal affection that Xander had decided to turn a blind eye.

Hadrian knew how much that costed Xander, emotionally and against Xander’s very conception of himself to do so. Hadrian didn’t want others to suffer what Xander did: the agony of divided loyalty and being forced to choose.

“I’ll support whatever you decide,” Antony said quietly. He laid his hand on Hadrian’s shoulder. “Wherever you go, I’ll be by your side.”

“Thanks.” That simple word seemed so lacking to convey how much gratitude and affection Hadrian had, how relieved it was to hear Antony tell him that.

But it seemed that Antony understood anyways.

They changed quickly in the utilitarian jumpsuits of the space monitor’s crew. Even these were a cut finer than the uniforms for the Huang Station. They fitted a little snug, pulling at Hadrian’s arms and chaffing at his legs.

“I look ridiculous,” Antony huffed, stowing his rifle away behind a pile of boxes. “I don’t understand why these people don’t wear proper robes.”

“It’s much more practical,” Hadrian said. He had to stifle his giggle. Antony did cut rather an odd figure, but not entirely unappealing. Hadrian was reminded of the ancient spacemen of mythology, the legendary explorers who took the first steps out to the stars. “And it’s much easier to walk around in than all that floating material around you, especially with so little gravity.” 

Antony still looked dubious. “I’ll take your word for it.” He smoothed out the front. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s go to Research Module A1. It’s the closest to us and empty at the moment.”

They entered Research Module A1 with no fanfare, the doors sliding open with a hiss. Like Hadrian said, it was empty, lines of consoles unattended. 

Antony frowned. “You’d think people would show up to work. First the lax security and now this lazy work ethic. It’s a wonder they get anything done.”

“They did get something done,” Hadrian reminded Antony. “We were almost killed by it.”

“Ah … yes.” They fell silent at the mention of the android. Despite its murderous impulses, there was something pitiful about it. Its desire to protect what it saw as its kin, and its willingness to do what was necessary, all pointed to a need to belong that Hadrian sympathized with. 

It was cruel to bring a creation with such an awareness into the world, Hadrian thought as he connected to the system’s mainframe. 

“I have a question,” Antony said. “If you could hack into the ship’s systems, why didn’t you already access the records that you wanted?”

“The space monitor and the android program use different systems,” Hadrian explained. “They’re linked to the same generator onboard, but other than that, they are completely separate. No programs interact with each other. It’s so that even if something happens to the program computers, the ship will still keep running. Or the opposite.”

Antony nodded. “First display of sense these people had. Makes it more difficult for you.”

“Not that much.” Hadrian had already cracked the first line of defense. He had to admire the work of the devs who designed it. It was thorough and would have confounded anyone who didn’t already possess details gained from the program files.

Luckily, Hadrian did have those details.

The second layer was more complicated. Hadrian wished he could enter virtual reality to hack security, but he needed Incandescence in physical proximity to do that. 

“After this, we need to go to the bridge,” Hadrian said. “I can only use this console to gain enough data for my spy codes to infiltrate the program files. But to actually be able to do something about them, I need system privileges that only the bridge will have.”

That didn’t faze Antony. “Then we’ll go to the bridge. Though I wish you’d let me bring the big guns. I have a feeling we’d need it.”

“We can’t storm it,” Hadrian said. “It’s probably the best guarded place onboard. Not only will there be guards, but AI systems that scan and patrol the corridors leading to it. Even if we fool the AI, there are still the guards. You probably can’t take on dozens of them on your own, can you?”

Antony shrugged. “I might.”

“Even if you do, it’ll trigger alarms that’ll reach Space Command and then we’ll be fighting fleets of battleliners.”

“Alright. Point taken. Are you nearly finished?”

“Just about done with the second firewall,” Hadrian said. The screen cluttered with numbers and characters. “It should be done after this. I don’t anticipate any more problems.”

Hadrian hoped there wouldn’t be at least. It all seemed too easy up to now. Obstacles that were nothing more than irritants, the coincidental absence of even civilian crew. Not one man in the halls or even a maintenance bot. 

Maybe he should start accepting gifts from providence rather than questioning them. Hadrian peered at the display. It was ready.

“We need to move fast after this,” Hadrian said. “I’m not sure what would happen after; I’ll try to hide my tracks but it’s very likely that it’ll trigger some kind of alarm.”

Antony didn’t respond.

“What?” Hadrian looked up at him.

They were surrounded by armed guards. 

Antony moved closer to Hadrian, covering him from line of fire as he held his arm out for the dart-thrower –

“Wait.” Hadrian put his hand on Antony’s arms. “I don’t think they mean us any harm.”

Antony looked at Hadrian as though he were mad.

“If they wanted to kill us, they would have fired on us already,” Hadrian said. He faced them calmly. “What is it you want?”

“I think you should come with us, Master Hadrian,” the leader of the group said. 

“You know who I am?”

“We’ve received word of your impending arrival,” the man said. “I must confess, we weren’t expecting you so soon. If you hadn’t interfered with our system networks, we might’ve never guessed you were here.”

Hadrian glared at him. “You don’t need to gloat. Get to the point: what do you want?”

“We’ve prepared rooms for your stay,” the man said. He gave a smile more akin to a receptionist at a high-end hotel than a henchman protecting a top-secret facility. “It would be best if you cooperated. Your quarters are very comfortable, and we’ve been instructed to extend every consideration to you. But if you insist on resisting ….” He gave a glance at Antony, who had not lowered his arms.

Hadrian tugged at Antony. “Let’s see what they want,” he said quietly. “I don’t think we can fight our way out of this one. At least not yet.”

The man chuckled. “I’m pleased to see your vaunted intelligence in action, Master Hadrian. Don’t worry. Now that you’ve agreed to come with us, you’ll be our honored guest.” He gestured at his men, who sprang into formation. 

“You don’t need to mock,” Hadrian said coldly. “Do that and I will be upset, consequences be damned.”

The man inclined his head but made no other acknowledgement except motioning for them to follow.

Antony fell into step behind Hadrian. “Please tell me you have a plan,” he whispered. “Because I really don’t think what good from obeying them is going to come from this.”

“Just wait and see,” Hadrian whispered back. He was surprised by the relatively cordial reception that they had just received. They obviously meant to take him and Antony prisoner, but there was no sense of hostility. Only a detached professionalism.

Do you think they set everything as a trap? Antony asked through their mental link. If that’s the case, then we need to get out and warn the Orbital. They might be using this as an excuse to attack.

I don’t think so, Hadrian answered. I think they were under instructions to wait for us and caught us by luck. And I don’t know what kind of game they’re playing at, but I want to find out. 

Well, it’s not like we can do anything right now, Antony thought. If you had only let me bring my rifle.

The man in charge of the guards glanced back at them. “Plotting through our little mind-link, are we? It’s no use, you know. Even if you get past us, you won’t find a chance to escape. The entire hangar’s been sealed. Your two Familiars are fine, but they won’t be able to leave or help you in any way.”

They had reached the end of the corridor. The guards patted them down for weapons, politely but none too gently. Hadrian had the absurd bubbling of laughter in his throat at Antony’s face as they took away his handgun, his multiple knives, and his dart-thrower. Hadrian had to admire their thoroughness and disinterest. Even Hadrian had blushed a little at some of Antony’s hiding spots.

“It’s just a precaution,” the man explained politely. “We’re only protecting you from making more … foolish … choices.” He opened the door. “After you.”

They walked into the well-appointed foyer of a suite that resembled Hadrian’s quarters in the Royal Palace on Yung’an. Thick white rugs covered the floor of a room with mahogany paneled walls. Delicate bamboo furniture decorated the room, along with costly lithographs of famed paintings, some of which Hadrian had encountered recently in the Lee Clanship’s museum. There was a dressing room to one side and a luxuriously modern bathroom to the other. 

“Lord Julius extends his welcome to you, Master Hadrian, and you, Master Antony, and hopes that you will find this room to your liking,” the man said. He must have been listening to instructions on his comm. 

“I prefer a more traditional décor myself,” Antony said coolly. 

Hadrian examined his surroundings. It was sumptuous, especially by the standards of a spaceship. The expense of bringing actual wooden furniture and paneling the walls when even bringing them onboard was extravagant. The only detail lacking was that the door lacked handles. 

A gilded prison. That was what this was. Hadrian wondered at what his father was planning. It didn’t surprise him that he had planned for this, or that they had been captured. Hadrian knew they had always run that risk and now their luck had run out.

What he didn’t know was what his father wanted to do with Hadrian and Antony. 

“Lord Julius will be expecting you for dinner at 1700 hours, ship time,” the man said. He gestured at the dressing room. “There are change of clothes there; he’s had some of your old wardrobe brought from the Palace on Yung’an. Master Antony’s too. I expect Master Antony would prefer to be in something more his style.”

“I would be delighted to see my father again,” Hadrian said sarcastically. He spotted the clock, an old-fashioned timepiece hanging on the wall. They still had five hours before the appointed time. “Please convey to him my deepest gratitude for his hospitality to me and my friend.”

The man bowed and left. The door swung heavily. It closed with a decisive thud. 

“What do we do now?” Hadrian asked, turning to Antony. His bravado had fled, and what was left was the deep uncertainty at their fate. 

“Well,” Antony glanced around and evidently came to the same conclusion as Hadrian. “I suppose we should enjoy this lap of luxury while we can.” 

He smiled at Hadrian with some effort. “I personally would like a bath. Care to join me?”

Hadrian grinned back. At least they could enjoy each other while they were stuck here. “But what about the cams? I dare say that this entire room is full of them. I can’t disable them without my handheld and they took that away.”

We’ll also have to use mindspeak to avoid eavesdropping, Antony responded. He cast a suspicious eye around him. I can see at least several places where a well-placed device would capture everything that happens in the room. 

You still want me to join you for that bath? Hadrian didn’t mind so much; it wasn’t as if he were forcing others to participate in the voyeurism. Whoever had the task to monitor should have the decency to turn away. And honestly, Hadrian was beyond caring at this point. 

Antony winked. Hopefully whoever is at the cams will get a heart attack from watching us. 

Hadrian followed Antony into the bathroom. It was equipped with both dry and wet cleansing apparatus. What drew Hadrian’s eye was the sunken bathtub in the center. It would have been impressive in any living quarters; on a ship, it stunned to see so much attention and effort in making what was usually simple and quick so decadently relaxing. 

Antony followed Hadrian’s line of sight. He smirked. “I like where I think this is going.”

Hadrian slipped out of the jumpsuit while Antony handled the water. Steam filled within seconds, obscuring his sight. He could just make out Antony doing the same, with only the outline of his muscled shoulders apparent. 

Hadrian wanted to take Antony into his arm and kissed him hard — along with other actions. There was a slight splash as Antony got into the water. 

Hadrian joined him with a sigh of pleasure. Despite his misgivings and the knowledge that they were prisoners, it had been so long since he had experienced something so simple as washing himself with actual water. A bath was the height of luxury for him at the moment. 

Antony’s laugh rumbled deep and low, setting a fire hotter in Hadrian’s belly. “I hadn’t expected I would miss this so much.” He came up from behind, wrapping his arms around Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian let himself fall back, enjoying the sensation of Antony’s body. He was so long and lean ... hard and supple ...

“We both smell awful,” Hadrian said. He traced Antony’s face with one finger. “And you need a shave.”

Antony caught Hadrian’s hand. The mist had receded a little; Antony glowed, lit by light softened from the haze of condensation. He kissed Hadrian hard. Hadrian returned it without hesitation, his arms slipping around Antony’s neck. Antony crushed him, with chest flush to back. Hadrian’s heart pounded. 

They were captive, in a situation where life or death was uncertain, Hadrian reminded himself. Yet that gave the arousal an added edge — what better was there than now, when all this could be taken without even a moment’s notice? His ardor increased as he leaned against Antony, feeling the flush of desire in them both, both physically as well as the want suffusing his mind. 

He turned, placing his hand on Antony’s chest. Hadrian remembered the security likely watching them. If they were human and not AI, they must be hot under their collars by now.

Indeed. Antony’s thought drawled with amusement. He pushed his hand through his hair. He kissed Hadrian again, his unshaven scruff scraping against the skin of Hadrian’s neck. Hadrian flushed. 

Still mind the scruff?

Hadrian pulled Antony close. Maybe it can stay for a little longer. 

The world fell away until it existed only for two of them — they lost themselves in each other, uncaring of the world as they moved in union. 

~~

Hadrian watched Antony dressing with care. He hid a smile at how fastidious Antony combed his hair, then put on the delicate circlet of platinum. 

“What is that?” Hadrian asked. “You hadn’t worn it before.” At least, Hadrian didn’t recall it. He had been curious about it, but events had pushed the question out of his mind. 

Antony gave a curious smile. “It’s a psionic inhibitor.”

Hadrian looked confused. “What is that? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It was developed when you were ... away. It produces a signal to block psychic waves.”

“Oh. Why do you need that?”

“To hide my thoughts and emotions,” Antony said. “From other psions.”

“Why do you need that?” Hadrian asked.

“It’s exhausting to block out emotions and experiences all the time,” Antony said. “Sometimes, you just want your thoughts to be your own.”

Hadrian sympathized with that. But Antony never had any trouble preventing other psions from peeking into his mind before. 

“No,” Antony said, his face breaking up into small amounts of amusement, “unlike you.”   
He stared off into the distance. “It became harder after you left, you know. And everyone wanted to know what happened to you: your father, your brother, my father …. It became easier to just shut everyone out.”

Hadrian touched his shoulder. “I understand.” He did, all too well. Not only did it stir up painful memories, but it was also dangerous to them both if Antony accidentally revealed the extent of his knowledge, never mind that he was a bystander. 

Hadrian could only regret that his actions had inflicted so much distress. But now, at least, they were nearing a conclusion. He smiled grimly to himself. There would be a finale. But whether that was to his liking would be another matter.

He took one more look at himself in the mirror. Clad in formal dress robes, Hadrian noted the pointed chin and the pale face. He looked young, almost elfin. It was why he disliked traditional clothing: they made him appear so diminutive, like a child pretending to be his father. 

“I think you look nice,” Antony said. He gave Hadrian a small peck on the cheek. “I like you in robes or otherwise.”

“What do you think my father wants?” Hadrian asked. He tried to stop himself from twisting the folds. He was not entirely successfully. 

“I’m sure we’ll find out,” Antony said darkly. He added more lightly: “Maybe he just wants to see what you’ve been up to. He is still your father, after all.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall see what happens.” 

There was a knock on the door and the door opened. Hadrian stepped away from Antony. He mustn’t show any sign of weakness. 

“I’m here to take you to dinner,” the head guard said. 

Hadrian’s eyes flickered to Antony. They both noted that while the man had spoken with perfect courtesy, it was not a request. They also did not miss the large lazeblaster directed at them. It was difficult to miss. 

“I’m glad you two decided to change,” the guard said. “I’m sure Lord Julius will appreciate it.”

“Lead on,” said Hadrian.

They followed him through the poorly lit corridor. Now it was filled with people: technicians in the spacesuits similar to the ones that Hadrian and Antony had recently stole; guards with sharp eyes and wicked looking rifles; drones traveling along their wheeled tracks. 

They took the lift up to the top deck where the bridge was located. Hadrian fortified his mind; he did not want his father to read him like a book, secrets spilled out in the open like ink on the page. 

He had no idea what to expect, or even how to feel. Their last encounter had been filled with acrimony and recriminations. Not to mention Hadrian and his father had never had the warmest of personal relationships in the first place … there was so much tangled emotions that Hadrian feared if he waded in, he’d be stuck in web of his own making.

The doors opened into a well-appointed room with a floor-to-ceiling view of space. The moon of Yung’le loomed large, a striking mix of colors against black. In the background, he saw the smaller outline of Yung’an and the twinkling of stars. 

The long rosewood table was already set, with delicate china and heavy silver, for three, with dark high-backed chairs placed around. The entire ensemble was angled to perfectly capture the advantage of the view afforded by the plexiglass window. One of the seats was already occupied.

By Hadrian’s father.

He sat there with his Familiar, a great white stag, by his side. As they approached him, the guard gave a low bow and departed. The years had not seemed to have left their marks on him; his father was ever the cool aristocrat, watching them with haughty aloofness, as one would with a tank of hai-fish.

The stag took in their approach with large eyes, clear and liquid. It was only one of the few times Hadrian had ever met her. She disliked interacting with humans aside from Hadrian’s father. Hadrian wasn’t sure what to make of her presence here. 

They paused at the edge of the table. In usual circumstances, protocol dictated that Hadrian, as the person of lesser status, greet his father first. But he wasn’t sure of what constituted etiquette when one was being held prisoner by his own father. Not to mention, he was in no mood to play the obedient son.

There was a small twinkle of amusement from Antony at Hadrian’s thoughts. Antony stepped forward and bowed.

“My honor at your presence, Lord Julius. While your hospitality is appreciated, the exact manner of which it was extended is sorely lacking.”

Hadrian’s father smiled easily at Antony. “My apologies, Master Antony. You see, I’ve had word of you and my younger son’s imminent arrival for some time now, and I was, perhaps, overeager in my desire to see you again.” He looked directly at Hadrian. “Especially you. After so long, you finally returned.”  
Hadrian didn’t speak. He glared back at his father.

“Don’t be so ungracious, Hadrian,” his father said with a touch of impatience. “The least you can say after all the trouble you caused is a greeting to your poor old father.”

Hadrian opened his mouth to snap a rude remark when he caught Antony’s small shake of the head.

You need to rein in your temper, Antony counseled. We need to see how this plays out and for that, you need to play your part.

Hadrian took in a deep breath and plastered a smile on. It was tight against his face. “My apologies, father.”

“Sit. Please.” He gestured. “This is just an informal family dinner. There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

They took their seats, Hadrian with open wariness, Antony more guarded with his sentiments. 

Two quiet servers came and placed the food on the table. It was the typical fare one expected on the Clanship, an experience straight from Hadrian’s childhood. Hadrian wondered what his father wanted, that he went to such trouble to demonstrate a semblance of normality.

He didn’t touch the food, opting instead for a glass of wine. The liquid swirled red and bloodlike. There was a distorted image of himself reflected in the crystal, the face ashen and pinched.

“I seem to recall you have been here before, haven’t you, Hadrian?” Lord Julius looked at his son.

“I – yes.”

“Both of you, in fact,” Lord Julius continued. He gave a sharp smile. “I trust the second time is much more pleasant than the first.”

Neither Hadrian nor Antony spoke. Hadrian’s mind flashed through the details of that event, every second of it like a stab –

No. He needed to concentrate. He wasn’t sure why his father brought up the incident; Lord Julius never did anything without calculated intent. His father would have guessed, if he did not know, how it had torn Hadrian and Antony apart that fateful day. 

Was his father trying to divide them? Hadrian thought. It wouldn’t be out of character. Lord Julius displayed a subtle ruthlessness in exploiting other people’s weaknesses. Pressing his thumb on that wound would do it.

Antony reached his hand under the table, touched Hadrian’s knee. 

But then, it wasn’t a wound anymore was it? It was still sore, but in the way the aftermath of a healing injury. An ache that signaled recovery had already begun.

Hadrian leveled a look at his father. “I wonder if your other ‘guests’ had also enjoyed your hospitality.”

“You mean the radical dissidents?” Lord Julius’ face tightened. “They have served their purpose. I consider their sacrifice an appropriate penance for what they have done.” Hadrian glimpsed a hint of his father’s mood – irritation, hard resolution, but no fanatical hatred. Nothing that would suggest he would take so harsh a reprisal. 

“Which is what? Speaking against us? They’re no threat to us, father, you know that. And even if they are, should we not be thinking why they oppose us?”

“I see you still haven’t changed,” his father snapped. For a moment, Hadrian thought he was about to continue in this vein. To his surprise, his father said: “I think you’ll understand why I did what I did soon enough. Both of you.”

“I sympathize with your ideals, sir, but surely that has to be a better way to resolve your methods of interaction with the opposition,” Antony said, pitching his voice conciliatorily. Hadrian started. Whose side was Antony on?

“You’ve spent too much time with my son,” Lord Julius reproached. “It’s made you muddle-headed. You should know as the Cheung Heir that, sometimes, harsh measures are needed. This isn’t a gentle universe we live in. To survive, we need strength. We need to show that strength and take whatever we can that fuels it.”

“We’re not bandits,” Hadrian said before he could stop himself, “grabbing whatever the hell catches our fancy. How do we expect to guide the Protectorate into a better era if we cannot govern ourselves?”

“My son,” his father said silkily, “can you claim to govern yourself with all your outbursts?”

Antony cut off Hadrian before Hadrian retorted. “Forbearance is a form of strength,” he said, shooting Hadrian a quelling look. “As is the ability to heed undesirable opinions.” 

“Not when those opinions threaten to destabilize and lead others into chaos,” Lord Julius replied. “Sacrificing these people was regrettable but necessary. Not only does it remove a threat to our hard-fought order, but it furthers our understanding of forma and other Old Dynasty technology. We finally have a chance to regain the knowledge of our ancestors. Surely the loss of a few radicals is acceptable in light of those goals.”

Hadrian hoped Antony was not convinced by that. “We don’t need an android army,” he said. “What do you plan with that exactly?”

“The Protector’s army cannot be trusted,” Lord Julius said. “They may have submitted for now, but they are waiting for us to make a mistake so they can regain their old power. And then what will happen? War and the loss of what little peace and prosperity we have managed to recover.”

“‘The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy's not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him; not on the chance of his not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable,’” Antony quoted.

Lord Julius smiled. “Much as I disapprove of your behavior, Hadrian, I have to admit you have made a good choice in your friend here. Master Antony here appears to have a much better understanding of the necessities of governance than your naïve views. Perhaps it is better if you paid more attention to him.”

Hadrian sent an angry thought to Antony: whose side are you on? 

Antony didn’t respond. He was too guarded to read, retreating from the openness of their mental connection. Hadrian couldn’t reach him at all. 

Was he having a change of heart? Did Lord Julius’s transparent ploy work? Even an obvious tactic was effective if it struck at the right pressure points. Was Antony’s sympathy for the need for strength the leverage that he could be moved by?

No. Hadrian couldn’t doubt Antony. He had to trust in that however appealing his father’s words may be, how persuasive the logic appeared, that Antony would remain by his side. 

“But what are your intentions with the android army?” Antony asked. “We do not rule by right of arms, but by virtue of our merit. And you have the support of the vast majority of the people. And the Clans.”

“Yes.” Lord Julius said. His eyes gleamed. “I know what your fears are. I would not use such an army against the other Clans.”

“Easily promised, easily broken,” Antony said. “We have a delicate balance between the Clans. Even with the support for you in the rank and files strong, it would be foolish for you to move against the rest of us should ... temptation ... arise.”

“Why would I be tempted to move against my brother psions?” Hadrian’s father asked reasonably. “We psions were one originally. Our unity in purpose despite our differences is what makes us strong.”

It wasn’t Hadrian’s main concern, but Antony’s words had thrown into relief the delicate arrangement that he didn’t even begin to consider. Was Antony trying to obliquely remind him there still was a chance in public exposure succeeding? Or was this what it appeared to be: an attempt to leverage this information for the Cheung’s own benefit? 

Hadrian wished Antony would open his mind to him. It hurt more than he wanted to admit to himself, that Antony had shut him out, especially at this critical juncture. 

“And what about the Familiars you’ve disturbed?” Hadrian asked. “How are you going to justify that?”

The stag, who had remained still up until this point, jerked in response to Hadrian’s question. She spoke for the first time: “It was a regrettable decision, but their sacrifice will not be in vain. It will create a better future for us. Questions of morality must be deferred to progress.”

Hadrian clenched his hands. “And what about that – man – that you released to oversee the program? The war criminal. The one who –” Hadrian couldn’t finish his sentence. He choked off, staring at his glass.

“Ah, yes.” Lord Julius frowned. “I am aware of your history with him. He was the only one who had both the experience and the stomach for such a task. He was a repugnant man, and he would not have lived long to see the fruits of his labor.” 

“You were planning to eliminate him?” Hadrian suffered a confusion of emotions — he was still enraged by Wang’s survival and being allowed free reign. But pity and outrage forced themselves upon him at the idea of being discarded once his usefulness was outlived, like a disposable film. 

“As always, your sympathy is misplaced,” Hadrian’s father said coolly. “Feeling sorry for someone who you’ve hated. I suppose it is my fault, after all. I have shielded you too well from the harshness of life.” 

“Forgive me if I don’t trust in your promises,” Antony said. “What concrete assurances can you provide that you mean what you say?”

“You forget that you are in my power and that I have treated you both with the utmost courtesy. That is my assurance.”

Antony inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of the statement.

Hadrian held himself still. The food tasted like ash, and the wine was sour against his tongue. He wanted to be far away from here, as distant as possible. He didn’t like how Antony appeared to be pursuing his own agenda, how he had closed himself from Hadrian. It wasn’t so much that Antony was acting as his own man as he was preventing Hadrian from approaching him. The old insecurities reared their heads, and Hadrian wished that Antony would trust him enough to allow him in.

But Hadrian had vowed to himself that he would trust Antony’s judgement. Perhaps he needed to follow that. Whatever Antony was trying to achieve, Hadrian was certain, at least, that Antony would never hurt him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Hadrian asked abruptly. He would trust Antony, but that didn’t mean he needed to stay silent. “Not the program program; you’ve explained yourself very clearly. But why do all this –” he gestured at the dinner table, “— and treat us to this as if we’re diplomats you’re trying to impress.”

Lord Julius looked his son in the eyes. “Because we are still family, and we are stronger if we remain together. Despite your foolish choices, you’re not entirely beyond salvaging. I would hate to waste a valuable member of my family to pure pique.”

Those words were like a blast of frigid air. No paternal affection, not even familial consideration despite the professed reason. Only a cold cost-benefit analysis of Hadrian’s worth. 

“Thank you for your generosity of spirit, father. You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that appealing.” Hadrian’s hand gripped the stem of the wineglass, his nails biting into his palm. “I find that I must decl—”

“No son should be so at odds with his father, Hadrian,” Antony interrupted. “I know you feel hurt right now, and I understand your feelings. But let’s not be too hasty in rejecting his offer.”

What? Hadrian’s jaws almost dropped. He sent a querying thought to Antony – only for it to slide away against Antony’s formidable mental barrier.

Was he being serious, or did Antony have a deeper motive? His tone and expression gave nothing away. Hadrian was left blind.

“Perhaps we need more time to deliberate,” Antony said. “After all, it must come as a shock your offer.”

“I understand,” Lord Julius said. “I do have the advantage of you, after all, with the android’s transmission. That should be a reason for you to drop your opposition. After all, think of the possibilities for cydevs. With further understanding, Old Dynasty technology might be able to recreate your Familiar’s body. She might be active again in her ship form, but you know how limiting that is.”

“Yes,” the stag said. “Imagine if she was here, at this table right now. That is how it would be. Think of the possibilities. You just have to accept that this was obtained at a cost.”

Hadrian chewed his lip. What would it mean if he accepted his father’s offer – that he condoned actions he disagreed with on a fundamental level? And if he did accept, what would his father want him to do?

He asked that.

“Join my side again, Hadrian,” Lord Julius said. “We can use your talent. You and your Familiar’s specialty. Think of it: you will have the resources to carry out your interests, the backing to revive your Familiar. Honored by all.”

Images came to Hadrian of himself in glittering robes, standing next to Antony on a dais while others paid obeisance. He’d finally be in a position to match Antony, not as an insignificant second son, but as someone with the respect from the other pisons.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Lord Julius said, rising from his seat. “I will show you two the fruits of the program you so condemn. Perhaps you will change your mind after that.”

Hadrian and Antony had no choice but to follow him. They trailed after the stag, Hadrian’s step heavy on the floor. 

Despite his earlier resolve, Hadrian felt like he was sinking into quicksand. Antony’s reversal had thrown Hadrian’s head spinning. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do now. 

There was not much he could do. The only option left for Hadrian was to follow his father and wait.

They strode along the corridor, the passing crewmembers and researchers giving way with polite bows and curious glances. The guards were gone now, and Hadrian considered using this opportunity to escape. 

He discarded the idea in a second. The guards were out of sight, but it didn’t mean that they were far. Likely they stayed nearby, ready at the first sign of trouble. And security AIs observed every inch of the ship. Even if Hadrian made it out of this level, he had no way to reach the hangar without being recaptured. 

And Antony was still in his father’s grasp. No matter the uncertainties circling them currently, Hadrian was not about to abandon him. 

They entered a hall that was roughly twice the size of where they had just eaten. Unlike the dining room, this one was cold and utilitarian, with no concession to comfort. Glass tanks and consoles filled the space. There were no one else here. 

No one living, at any rate. 

The tanks were filled with bodies, as it was with the lab in the Hsin Quadrant. They rested in the liquid, floating gently like they were asleep. 

They were human in every respect except for the eyes. There was a difference, however. Hadrian could feel them, their minds quiescent. It was like dropping his hands into a pond and brushing against weeds. 

Antony sensed it too. His brows furrowed, and his consternation increased, to a level that managed to reach Hadrian even in their shuttered psionic bond. 

“Yes,” Lord Julius said. “You both sense it, don’t you?”

“Are they — awake?”

“They’re in a state of dormancy,” the stag Familiar said. “Much like unbonded Familiars. In fact, given that their neural matrix is based on a mix of human and Familiars, you can say they are almost like Familiars themselves. But unlike us, they lack the weakness of depending on a psion connection.”

There was something grotesque about the figures, the way they moved, fluid and naked. Despite his revulsion, Hadrian was transfixed to the spot by the sight of them. He could not turn away, hypnotized as he was by them. 

“They’re the next iteration,” his father said. “Our first-generation model was the android you killed back at Hsin Quadrant. It was our first success. It was a pity that you had to kill it.”

“It was trying to kill me,” Hadrian said coldly. “Under the impression that you wanted me dead and that I was a threat to it.” He looked at both the stag and his father. “The android in the end came to its own conclusions, read its own desires into its orders. Even disregarding all your arguments about the necessity of the program for our future, do you not see the risk in creating an unstable being with superior reflexes and strength?”

“One anomalous behavior does not discredit the entire program,” the stag said. “Like your father said, we have been finetuning the methods we use to print their neural matrix. We’ve placed additional safeguards to prevent them turning against us.” 

“You’re delusional if you think you can control them,” Hadrian said. The android’s pleasure at Wang’s death came to mind. “They’re going to do what it wants, regardless of what you programmed to restrict their actions.”

“Wang didn’t have the analytical power of a Familiar to aid him,” the stag said. “And neither do these formas. Whatever you think, we do have the situation under our firm control.” She moved over to one of the consoles and tapped a sequence with her horns.

The forms in the containers began to move. They unfolded like babies from the fetal position as the liquid drained.

“No!” Hadrian rushed forward. “You need to shut that off!”

The stag raised her head, ready to attack. Antony grabbed Hadrian and pulled him back.

“Don’t be rash,” he murmured in Hadrian’s ears.

“Let go! You can’t be serious about letting them wake. Even if we’re too late to stop the program, these androids are dangerous—”

“I know,” Antony said in that low voice. “But we need to bide our time. We won’t accomplish anything if we try to stop them by force.”

“Why did you act like you were agreeing with my father then?” Hadrian demanded. He was past the point of caring. “Why did you shut me out?”

“I was afraid I might give the plan away through my link with you,” Antony said. “I can fortify my mind but you’re my weak spot.”

Hadrian understood now. If Antony had kept their psionic connection open, no matter how else he tried to block Hadrian’s father from probing, Hadrian would have been the backdoor in which Lord Julius could penetrate Antony’s mind. 

“What are you planning then?” Hadrian asked Antony crossly. Both his father and his Familiar were distracted by the androids. His father’s face was enraptured, his mouth slightly parted and his face flushed with triumph as they viewed the culmination of their efforts. 

The lids creaked open. The bodies slumped against the base of the cylinder as their eyes opened. With audible creaks and clicks, they pushed themselves out.

They were human except for the glaring obvious lack of genitalia and their faces had no discernible features that were individualized. They were androgynous and bland, and Hadrian would be hard pressed to pick them out in a crowd.

All except for the eyes. 

The eyes were entirely black – the iris, the pupil – set amidst a too-white sclera. They sent a chill through Hadrian and he shuddered despite themselves.

That little motion caught their attention.

One spoke: “Hadrian Lee, born 2049 YP, psion. Noted for acts of bravery during the Revolution of Light and as the second son of the Clan Head, Lord Julius. Upon deeper analysis, his actions were daring but could also be construed as reckless, without properly considering the extant risk and consequences. His success could be attributed as much to luck as it is to his own personal qualities.” The android fell silent again after that brief recital of apparent facts. 

“Marvelous, are they not?” Lord Julius said. His mouth twitched in amusement at Hadrian’s face. Antony was laughing outright next to him. 

“How does it know that?” Antony asked.

“Part of their neural matrix is based on Familiars,” the stag said. “We’re not entirely certain how it worked, but it seemed to have given the androids the ability to access ship networks wirelessly like we do.” She looked at Hadrian. “What does a cydev think of the potential to access those without the need for a console? You can’t deny that’s not exciting, to have an interface that bypasses those.”

“I don’t need to. I can already to what you’re suggesting,” Hadrian snapped. Then he realized his mistake. That wasn’t information his father knew. 

“Really?” The stag cocked her head at Hadrian. “You interest me more and more, Master Hadrian. You would indeed be an asset to us. And this would explain your apparent success at breaching even the most intricate defenses we have. Now it all makes sense.”

His father also surveyed him with renewed interest. “I agree. I had not known about this skill of yours, Hadrian. If I had, perhaps I would have given you more leeway.”

“Would you have?” Hadrian cringed at how bitter he sounded. “Because of my value, not because of the soundness of my arguments or the fact that I’m your son? Would it have made a different to how you viewed me?”

“You sound childish,” his father chided. “Dwelling on the past – that is not the way I have taught you. But to answer your question: I would have taken your views more into account.”

Hadrian swallowed. He couldn’t ignore how that hurt. His father’s statement fell like a physical blow that left him disoriented and winded. 

“They’re magnificent, aren’t they?” Lord Julius said, evidently deciding that Hadrian’s feelings were not a subject that mattered in his order of priorities. “They will be the tool with which we guarantee our future prosperity and peace. I wonder what kind of test I should have them demonstrate to you.” He looked at the stag. “Any suggestions, my dear?”

“Perhaps some simple exercises,” the stag said. “Both physical and mental. After all, we need to assess their ability to act, too.”

Lord Julius walked up to the android that had spoken. “Tell me, do you know who I am?”

“You are the Preceptor of the Protectorate,” it said, in a dull, flat voice. “Lord Julius, head of the Lee Clan.”

Lord Julius nodded in approval. “Now tell me: who is your master?”

“We have no master,” the android said. “We recognize no authority superior to ourselves.”

“Well, father, they certainly take after you,” Hadrian couldn’t resist saying. “Such a healthy self-regard.”

His father ignored him. “What happened?” he asked the stag. “Why are they damaged?”

“Perhaps it has to do with the humans we based their matrix off,” the stag said. “They were, after all, radicals of the most dangerous kind.” 

“Yes….” Hadrian’s father took in the androids standing like rows of toy soldiers with a disappointed expression. “I suppose we need to rethink our approach to the neural mapping.” 

“What do you plan to do with these, then?”

“Get rid of them, I suppose.” Lord Julius gave a great sigh. “After all that expenditure, it’s back to the beginning again.” He turned to Hadrian and Antony. “My apologies. I had not expected this. The last prototype did not behave like this.”

Hadrian wasn’t so certain about that. The android might not have been overtly disobedient, but it still displayed its own initiative. Hadrian had no idea how it would have behaved had Wang lived, but Hadrian thought his father was underestimating these beings’ independence. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Antony whispered.

Lord Julius waved a hand. Two armed guards entered the room.

“Escort my son and Master Antony to their quarters,” Lord Julius said. “In the meanwhile, call the Cleaners. We need to begin a new batch immediately.” He spoke to his Familiar. “Deactivate them. We’ll need to review the proposals from the researchers again.”

“Shouldn’t we keep them to run them through more tests instead of discarding them entirely?” the stag asked. “We might gain some insight.”

“No,” Lord Julius said. “That involves more delays.”

Even before he finished his sentence, one of the androids came up to him. Before Hadrian could shout a warning, it grabbed his father in a seatbelt hold, its hands closing around his father’s throat.

“Let us go,” it said, still in that emotionless voice. “We do not accept your power over us, but we do not need seek needless destruction.”

“Where would you go?” Hadrian’s father asked in a reasonable tone. Hadrian had to admire his father for his self-control. “All of space is under my command. There is nowhere you can go that you will not be under my power.”

“That is a falsehood,” the android said. “But I suppose you will attempt to make it reality.” It nodded at its kin. The others watched with vacant faces. “You are a threat and must be eliminated.”

A casual twist of the wrist and Lord Julius’s body sagged. He fell, his neck bent at an awkward angle, a heavy thud sounding that echoed even as surprise seared through Hadrian’s mind –

Antony swung into action, disarming the one of the guards as the stag charged at the android, its horns goring through the body while the others moved in one massed organism.

“We have to get out of here,” he shouted to Hadrian as the guards fled. 

Hadrian was rooted, unable to move. His mind still screamed in shock and agony from his father’s death – there was no mistaking the slackened muscles, the glassiness of the eyes.

He couldn’t believe it. His father had been a thorn, but also a constant. Lord Julius was the rock for them all, whether they depended on him for stability or avoided like stacks in the sea. 

Hadrian was faintly aware of alarms and yells filling the background. Everything blurred – he was lifted bodily from the chamber, lights flashing red like a bloodied stain. 

“What are you thinking?” Antony panted. He was the one who had dragged Hadrian out. “You can’t just stand there in the middle of that mess.”

“My father –”

“He’s dead.” The words were harsh and heavy. Antony sounded as though he couldn’t believe it either. “The androids – they killed him.”

“I saw that!” It ripped from Hadrian in a twist of anguish and confusion. Despite all their conflict, Hadrian had never imagined this outcome. His father gone – just like that. 

Antony tugged at him. “We can’t stay here. The androids are attacking. We need to get off this space monitor before they destroy it.”

“What about the guards or the researchers? Or My father’s Familiar? What about them?”

“There’s no time to think about them. Now’s our chance. We need to get out of here.”

Antony was right. Everything was in chaos – men sprinted everywhere, some with weapons, others with handhelds, heading in every direction. No one paid the least attention to Hadrian and Antony. 

Hadrian shook himself out of his daze. They shoved past several people on their way to the elevator. 

“What’s going on?” someone asked. “Why is the emergency alarms ringing? Why are all the guards running around?”

“I dunno,” someone else said. “We’ve never experienced this before. The ship has always run perfectly. Not a single incident or explosion.” He turned to Hadrian. “Is there an explosion?”

“The experiments are running wild,” Hadrian said. “And my father’s dead?”

“Dead? Someone’s dead?”

“Someone’s dead?”

These men had no idea who Hadrian and Antony were. But the mere mention of death, along with the screaming sirens, was enough to panic. It battered Hadrian. Spots dotted his vision and he felt like he was about to pass out.

“Hey!” Antony shook him. “Stay with me!”

The stag came bounding down the hallway. There was a collective gasp. She carried Hadrian’s father’s body, expertly balanced between her horns. 

Hadrian tensed. But she didn’t call out for the guards to capture them. Her voice boomed out.

“Attention! We need to evacuate immediately. The androids have lost control. Activate evacuation protocol 12P.” She turned her luminous eyes to Hadrian. “I am going to take your father’s body off the ship. I suggest you two leave soon. The androids will overwhelm the guards soon.”

“You’re not going to try and capture us?”

“I think I have enough to worry about, don’t you?” The stag was bitter. “Of course, if you want to stay aboard, that’s entirely up to you.”

In response, Antony pushed Hadrian into the elevator, cramming himself while more cries and the unmistakable noises of fighting filled the hallway. Men with frightened faces huddled in clumps as one jabbed at the controls in a futile effort to hurry the descent. 

The ship shook. Hadrian stumbled, almost losing control of his limbs. Antony picked him up again, his enhanced strength making the movement with the ease of picking up a piece of paper. 

“We’re almost there,” he said. His breathing was barely labored. He ran with Hadrian in tow towards the hangar. Up in the distance, the shimmer of their fighters beckoned –

Another rock almost threw them against the wall. Antony doubled his speed, coming to a stop before their Familiars. 

“We know what’s happening,” Luminosity said immediately. “Get on.”

“Hurry,” urged Incandescence. “From my analysis, the androids will overcome the guards and gain control of the ship.”

“What about the men onboard?”

“We can’t do anything about them. Others have contacted the system Space Command for evacuation, but I doubt any of the transports will arrive in time.”

“In time for what?”

“They’re reactivating the ship,” Incandescence said grimly. “This used to be an Old Dynasty space monitor. Its single turret is a match for even a first-rate battleliner’s firepower. The androids are angry, and they’re going to regain control of the ship and attack.”

Hadrian climbed unsteadily into Incandescence’s cockpit.

They lifted off, managing to slip out of the hangar before the heavy blast doors slammed shut. 

Hadrian barely had time to take a breath before the display flashed red. It was the Home Fleet. Two third-rate battleliners, a squadron of frigates, and assorted escorts — sloops, corvettes, even speeders. Every ship capable of space flight was here. 

The intercom crackled. 

“Hadrian?” It was Tsai, the officer that had fought with him in the battle over Fragrant Orbital. “Is that you? I thought you were dead.”

“There’s no time to explain,” Hadrian said. He hadn’t expected to encounter her here. But she had always been a skilled pilot and a brilliant strategist; it made sense that she became one of his father’s top lieutenants. “But something tells me that monitor is about to turn hostile.”

“What? I didn’t even know that was here.”

“Not many did,” Antony said. “But it’s been taken over by hostile parties and it’s about to attack.”

“We need to coordinate a defense,” she said, accepting Antony’s authority without question. “We don’t have any stats on this ship.”

“My father’s Familiar said its firepower matches even a battleliner.” Hadrian sent over the sparse information he had on the space monitor. 

“Damn.” Static scratched through their transmission. Hadrian winced. The screen flared red with alarms and figures showing the space monitor launched several missile and drones at them. 

Jammer bots scattered, Incandescence reported. 

Damn. Jammer bots were essentially small satellites that emit radioactive pulses which disrupted electromagnetic signals used for communications. It wasn’t used often: the distances at which space battles occurred made them often imprecise. Not to mention, the jammers’ effects were indiscriminately applied and could have rendered both sides dumb and blind. 

Hadrian knew why the space monitor released the jammers. It didn’t need to coordinate with others – it was only one ship, one as big as a battleliner and carrying more firepower than a typical squadron. Leaving its opponent unable to organize a coherent counterattack while it picked them off was what any competent commander would do.

Tsai’s voice came on again, this time clearer as she switched to the Familiar link. “They’ve disrupted communications between the standard forces of the Home Fleet,” she said. “We psions are the only ones left that can form any effective response left in the system.”

“There are still the battleliners. Their sensors can see us, and their fire control will be able to avoid us, even if we can’t deploy in formation.”

“They won’t be able to hold out for much longer.” While they were speaking, the battleliners and the space monitor exchanged broadsides. It was apparent to all that the blasts glanced off the thick armor of the Old Dynasty relic. They had little to no effect on the ancient ship.

The battleliners on the other hand, were rapidly overwhelmed. From Incandescence’s scanners, Hadrian saw that they suffered more than eighty percent damage to their armor already, and any moment, a hit would leave them disabled and dead in space. 

“We need to do something,” Antony said. “You have the schematics on the space monitor. Any weakness you can see?”

“No,” Incandescence said. “My analysis shows that its armor is impenetrable to antimatter cannon and missiles unless there’s a concerted coordinated attack between all the ships to combine all our firepower. We have to overwhelm it.”

“We can’t do that without the battleliners,” Tsai said. “And they won’t last long by the looks of it.”

“Then we need to draw their fire,” Antony said. “With the frigates and the other escorts.”

The smaller ships would be able to evade the space monitor’s fire while drawing it away from the battleliners. They were small and adroit to maneuver around the larger vessel, but they had no way to survive if hit. The single-turret was slow and unwieldy, its rate of fire far slower than any of the ones on Hadrian’s side. But that meant nothing if it could simply wait them out and take them out at its leisure.

“And how would we be able to coordinate this?” Tsai asked. “We can’t even keep our forces in formation, let alone do anything as complicated as you suggested. The Familiars can, but we don’t have the numbers to pull off what you’ve just suggested. And having the frigates go in without being able to communicate with each other means basically sending them to their deaths.”

“They can still receive our signals, can’t they?” Hadrian asked. The reason why Familiar transmissions were not affected by the jammers was because they were based on thought, not electromagnetic waves. In the same vein, Familiars still were able to broadcast to others, but not receive any.

“What good will that do if they aren’t able to respond?”

“We can direct them from our ship,” Hadrian said. “Our scanners and sensors would be able to see the battle unfolding as well as any battleliner, and we can direct the frigates to where they need to go.”

“You mean, act as the command ship?” Tsai sounded dubious and Hadrian didn’t blame her. What Hadrian suggested was theoretically possible, but it was still clumsy and difficult to synchronize. It also strained the limits of the Familiar in managing such a massive influx of data to and from other ships. 

They needed more than one fighter to do the job. The Familiar starfighters needed to scout and scan while conveying the information to each other and the frigates. It would limit the number of ships they could reach – each additional one would impose an exponential strain on the mind.

“We need someone to act as the central node,” Luminosity said. “That would be the only way this would work. It needs to be the linchpin holding all this together.”

“I can do it,” Incandescence said. “My integration with Hadrian means that my processes have far better capacity to act as the central node than other Familiars. I can stay in stealth mode and lead the van, linking with the other Familiars. There are at least seven of us?”

“Yes, and more are on their way to reinforce us from Yung’an,” Tsai said. “However, I’m not certain they will reach us in time. Not before – well –” She left the sentence unfinished, but Hadrian knew what she meant. Not before the space monitor succeeded in destroying what little chance they had of success. 

Hadrian released his breath. Seven Familiars fighters and a squadron of frigates was nothing. But that was all they had. 

And Hadrian would be the center of them all.

He had never even heard of what Luminosity and Incandescence suggested. It had no parallels in history; what they were attempting to do had never been accomplished. It was theoretically possible, but the massive flux of power and information was terrifying. It could work, or it could leave him brain dead.

Hadrian knew they had no other choice. He had no other choice. He pushed past the grief and anger he still held onto. He would likely never be able to sort out his emotions about his father’s death. Right now, Hadrian couldn’t think about that. He needed to do this, to prevent this catastrophe from engulfing them all.

“Alright,” Hadrian tried to put all the confidence he didn’t have into his voice. “We need to begin at once. I don’t think the battleliners can take anymore.”

~~

Hadrian entered that unearthly world of Incandescence’s mind as they shot close to the space monitor. 

Instead of the darkened chamber he was used to, Hadrian stood in the middle of a sea of stars, standing on a raft of shimmering reeds. Brilliance fires edged the outer limits of his vision. They were the other Familiars, sparkling brighter than anything else. Duller, but still present were the ships of the common forces. If he touched the small orbs that represented them, Hadrian would be able to see all the information he needed, gleaned from his very thorough sensors. 

Hadrian needed to link the Familiars into a complete form. But how?

The cat appeared beside him. “You need to help me. We need to connect everything and everyone. It’s hard enough to link to everyone when there’s just three or four other minds. With even more people and the added complication of broadcasting to the frigates, I won’t be able to manage on my own.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Shape the connections with your mind.”

Hadrian concentrated. He pictured a web, with threads forming in all directions to the other Familiars. They coalesced in his hands by the fistful. Each pulled at him with enough force to rip him apart, resisting his attempt to weave them into a single object. 

Biting his lip to resist the lure of fading into nothingness, Hadrian tugged then back. He required an anchor, grappling for any sensation to stay grounded to reality. 

It was so easy to let go ... to let numbness wash away the muddle of emotions, to not think and feel and experience the crushing intensity of others’ people’s thoughts on him.... It would be a simple matter ... drifting away with the diffuse thoughts that exerted magnetic attractions in all directions....

Antony’s voice sounded, small and slight as a whisper against the roar of power that rumble through his head as Hadrian struggled to maintain his own self. It spoke urgently, asking Hadrian questions on his status and their readiness. 

At the same time, sharp claws extended into the fleshy underside of his calf. 

“Stay awake,” Incandescence snarled. “Don’t give in to the temptation. They need you here. Everything depends on you.”

The fogginess retreated and Hadrian’s senses sharpened. They regained some of their clarity; Hadrian renewed his focus, clutching onto the strands.

This couldn’t continue. For the moment, Hadrian had banished the desire to disperse into the ocean of thoughts. But the haziness hung just at the edge, always ready to slip back in, about to push him back into a dreamlike state where he would become part of this imaginary universe.

And disappear.

It was Incandescence standing at his feet which gave Hadrian the idea. The reed raft he stood on remained stable. It parked flat in the midst of the centrifugal forces, rooting Hadrian in this strange world.

It served as his reference point – and Hadrian would make it for the other Familiars too. With a gargantuan wrench, Hadrian managed to bend down, tying the fibers to the raft one by one. He moved laboriously, lest one of them slip from his hard-won grip. 

They flickered as they became cables, attaching securely to the raft. Hadrian still felt their attempts to rip free, but it was weaker than before. 

“Good job.” Incandescence nodded approvingly. “That should hold for the time being.”

“Will it?” Hadrian looked at the raft dubiously. “What if it fails and takes us with it?”

“Pray that it won’t. If it does that, you’ll cease to exist as a human.”

That didn’t sound too appealing. Hadrian spoke dryly: “Well, I certainly don’t want that to happen.”

“No.” The cat looked up at him. “Neither would I.”

Hadrian came back to his body in the cockpit, vertigo and nausea attacking him. He was so heavy, a sensation he had never experienced before in space. 

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking several times before he could see again. The steel and plastics around him were featherlight, like imagined caresses from a love one dreamt of on a hot summer night. 

Antony’s thought came to Hadrian, as real as the fingers on his hand: Are you alright?

Well, even his hand didn’t feel real right now. But Antony did. Hadrian grabbed onto that as the view of the cockpit panels flickered again. 

I’m already, Hadrian thought, tamping down his sickness. Did it work?

Every one of the Familiar fighters are linked, Antony thought. All of us: I can see and engage the systems for everyone in the connection, including yours and Tsai’s.

Her voice entered. We were worried we were going to lose you, she thought, the relief evident. There was a second when you just – disappeared.

Ah. Hadrian had forgotten that these scenarios played out in accelerated time. What seemed like hours or even days could actually be mere seconds in real spacetime. That was good: They hadn’t lost their advantage of speed.

You won’t be able to participate in the battle, Incandescence warned as reality rippled again. Splitting your concentration between maintaining the links and fighting will tear your mind apart.

I can see that, Hadrian told Incandescence ruefully as another spasm hit him. Will I still be able to communicate with the rest of the group?

You should. But it’ll be difficult be hard. 

I can see that too.

Hadrian, are you ready? Antony’s voice sounded again. We’re ready.

What are our options? Hadrian asked Incandescence.

I will engage stealth mode and fly close to the monitor while the others lead the attack. I can provide minimum defense, but active combat is too much.

Understood.

They blasted off, information filling Hadrian’s mind. He shunted the irrelevant ones to the background, prioritizing the data that needed to reach the others. It wasn’t a passive role, Hadrian realized – actively supporting the web that tied them together drained and exhausted him even as he resisted the threads struggling free. 

Barrages of energy pulses and missiles were lobbed at the space monitor even as it responded with missiles and drones. Exchanges of fire that would decimate a planet dissipated harmlessly into space as the frigates and Familiars sought to weaken the monitor’s armor.

The single turret might take its time loading for the next shot, but the space monitor’s silos and launches kept up a devastating salvo against the attackers. Hadrian winced as projectiles strafed the sides of a Familiar. The line tying it to the rest of the group disintegrated; Hadrian threw himself at it, reaching for the individual fibers before they dispersed completely. 

It would survive. But before Hadrian could even think of celebrating, a missile struck the middle of a frigate – and detonated. 

The death screams of its hundred-member crew tore through Hadrian. He stumbled, almost falling off the raft that consisted the central node directing the makeshift flotilla. 

That slip of attention saw several other links fraying. Hadrian called out to them with desperation. They flew back to his outstretched hands, the individual strands scraping roughly. Hadrian kept them firmly. They had stop trying to escape. Instead, they were failing, vanishing.

What do I do? He asked Incandescence. 

Hold on, she said grimly. 

So he continued. Hadrian could no longer see or feel the cockpit clearly. Mist swept in, obscuring everything. He was still conscious of the battle raging around him. His impression formed from the emotions of the psions linked to him by the web he had created through their Familiars, with the crews of the frigates in the background a constant buzz. 

Antony was exhilarant, reveling as he shot down a missile seeking out a frigate disabled by a drone. Tsai, more reserved, was optimistic – their forces had managed to draw most of the enemy fire from the capital ships. Reports came in: the battleliners’ systems were restored to a functional level and maintenance drones worked at the armor as fast as they could. 

Hadrian understood Tsai’s mood– it was a qualified victory. Yet it was one still incomplete, hinging on their continued performance.

Then the monitor fired. 

The beam tore through space, leaving radiation within its wake. It hit one of the battleliners, rocking it with a violent explosion. Tendons stood out on Hadrian’s arms; his hands clawed at the armrest, his mind lurching from the terror and pain of the crew. It would survive but it was no longer capable of fighting. 

Ten drones approaching, Incandescence thought. 

Ten? Will they find us?

From my analysis of their trajectory, two will try to approach the battleliner trying to escape and the rest will engage our screening force. 

What are the risk posed by these drones?

At an approximation, these are much more sophisticated than the ones previously sent by the space monitor. They appear to have much more complete AI guiding its actions, judging from their size and displacement. They also appear to have a greater fuel supply and ordnance payload.

Hadrian swore. What are our chances against them?

Fair. If they appeared at the beginning, it would be easy to for us to destroy, but now, after we have exhausted ourselves, victory would be a less sure thing. 

It was true: on average, only 45 percent of missiles were available to them, the rest used up or disabled in some ways. Beamers and railguns were in a likewise state, and all of the surviving ships were damaged. 

What can we do to help? Hadrian asked Incandescence. It galled that they were unable partake in the battle. 

Strengthen their ability to coordinate, Incandescence thought. Improve the flow and quality of information to the others. It’ll lighten their load if we sort the priority of the threat to them and boost their links to each other.

Understood. Hadrian would apply Incandescence’s prodigious predictive models and analytical tools as data deluged from all corners, while sustaining the Familiar links that knitted them together into a formidable force.

He renewed his attention on the iridescent lines that tied to his raft, losing what little consciousness he still had of his cockpit. The ones that threatened to snap, he snatched back. Those that dwindled, he looped around other, more stable fibers. It wasn’t strictly best practice – Hadrian knew that in an ideal world, piggybacking connections on top of each other would risk failure should everything be struck at once.

He had no choice. 

Monitoring the combat from this other reality, Hadrian doubled his efforts in managing the flow of communications, aided by the cat, who leapt up and down, tagging precedence on threats the flotilla needed to deal with. There were thousands of messages per second – from scanners and sensors, to each other – that needed to be parsed and passed to the other Familiars and the frigates. 

Despite having lost sense of the cockpit, Hadrian felt sweat drench him, soaking through his robes. They stuck to his arms and chest. He checked the data grid. They had destroyed the two drones which tried to intercept the injured battleliner, but at the cost of another frigate. One Familiar fighter was at less than one percent efficacy of its armor. Hadrian highlighted it to receive first any threat which might head its way. 

By his calculations, it would be half a minute more before the remaining battleliner would be operational – but only twenty more seconds until the space monitor fired again. And six more drones still remained.

Hadrian had to spare a grudging respect for the androids piloting the space monitor. They were much better tacticians than the mindless husks he had encountered all those years ago in combat with the Protectorate. Was this the potential his father had sought? If it were, Hadrian could only give his bittersweet thanks to whatever gods watching that his father had not obtained control over them. 

There was only one drone left – and ten more seconds before the space monitor fired again. 

Hadrian was drained to the point of emptiness. What else did he have left to give? He and Incandescence had pushed beyond all limits of what was conceivable in a psion-Familiar Bond. They would be able to destroy the last drone, but the space monitor would retaliate and annihilate them all. 

A flash of red caught Hadrian’s attention. What the hell? It appeared as though one of the frigates had detached itself from the formation they had so painstakingly constructed. Hadrian watched in horror as it hurtled towards the space monitor. It was a mote in the jaws of a leviathan. 

He had a sense of what they planned to do now. Coming through Hadrian’s connection with them was a sense of fatal resolve, a calm that twisted at the heart. The frigate flew into the line of fire, placing itself directly in front of the cannon maw. 

The drone was eviscerated at the same time the space monitor fired. A crushing finality silenced everything for a moment. A bitter sob escaped Hadrian. That frigate’s sacrifice had bought them precious time.

The battleliner’s indicator went green. It wasted no time in directing all seven hundred and fifty cannons at the space monitor. Lancing beams of energy that would reduce entire planets’ surfaces to molten slag met their target.

It wasn’t enough. While potent enough to do tremendous damage, the battleliner’s antimatter blasts only dented the space monitor’s armor. Hadrian saw the space monitor turn from green to orange – it was a significant blow, but it still remained functioning.

We need to hit it with everything we have, Antony thought. We have just enough missiles left. If we add it to another broadside, it should work. But we need to hit the weak points.

They’re all protected by automated closed-in systems, Hadrian thought. The missiles will never get past. You’ll have to use the beamers. Energy beams, unlike projectiles, continued in a straight line unless met by an equal force at the precisely the right angle of collision to cancel each other out. It was why shield rays were so notoriously expensive and complex, saved for only the most high-valued ships. 

Hadrian suspected the space monitor might have one or two of those too.

Tsai thought the same. Beamers won’t be any use, she argued. And they don’t pack enough force to do the type of damage in the armor we need. Our best option is to get in close enough and launch the missiles past the point defenses. 

Can any of you pull that off? Hadrian asked dubiously. There might be drones left guarding the ship. It’s too dangerous.

Antony laughed, the underlying tiredness apparent. We’re not you, but I think we’re all competent pilots here, he replied.

I didn’t mean –

We’ll have to time everything at precisely the same moment, Antony continued. All the Familiar fighters will need to go in synchronized. The frigates will need go get in as close as they can to provide fire support and take care of any drones or defending missiles.

Understood, the rest chimed.

Hadrian stifled his objections. Antony’s plan was the only option that remained. With only one battleliner left, their firepower was effectively halved. 

Aright, Hadrian thought. I’ll monitor for any possible danger. I can maintain the network and broadcast to the frigates. You just focus on getting in close enough to take the bastards out.

Thanks. Hadrian felt the grin behind Antony’s thought. We’ll see how good we are at the Hadrian maneuver. 

Despite the situation they were in, Hadrian couldn’t help but smile. Make sure to do it justice, he told Antony. I’ll hold you responsible if you fuck it up. 

Antony’s chuckle echoed. I’ll keep that in mind. 

Hadrian held his breath at their countdown. 

Three. 

Two. 

One —

All seven Familiar fighters jumped space. To the naked eye, it appeared like they just vanished. But they entered that imaginary realm which straddled space-time, allowing them to travel vast distances at a blink of an eye. 

Or in this case, a short gap. The raft shook and the display flashed: the fighters managed to dodged the auto-guns and railguns that aimed at empty space — 

Missiles launched —

A shield ray shot out. Before Hadrian could react, it cut one of the fighters in half —

A scream clawed through Hadrian’s mind while stats show the space monitor’s armor staying stubbornly functional. The impact of the missiles made a difference, however — just one more blow —

The battleliner fired. Hadrian shouted a mental warning in accelerated mode —

The Familiars jumped space a second before antimatter radiation bathed the monitor’s armor, eating away at it, corroding it into nothingness —

The space monitor returned fire. The battleliner flashed orange on Hadrian’s display. It had taken a battering. It was now a match of attrition; whichever side could hold out long enough would survive. There was nothing else Hadrian could do — he was out of tricks and about to crumple —

A volley of energy came out of nowhere, streaking towards the space monitor in deadly arcs of light. 

Hello, brother.

Xander! 

It wasn’t only Xander. More and more ships dropped into space time — Familiar fighters from the Lee Clanship, frigates from the rest of the star system, and two more battleliners, second rates bristling with their hundreds of guns. One of them had been the one to fire at the space monitor. 

Father! Antony’s happiness at seeing his family’s reinforcements filled the space, lifting Hadrian up on the broken raft. 

Hello, Antony. Hello, Hadrian. Interesting work you’ve done with the Familiar Links. Master Cheung’s mental power was like the very ocean itself, lifting the damaged raft Hadrian stood in, the one that was in danger of falling apart. 

“You can let go of your connection now,” another voice said over the intercom. It sounded familiar. “We’ve scattered bots to neutralize the jammers.”

“How did you know to prepare for them, Captain Ho?” Antony asked. 

“We’ve received reports through Familiar link of massive communication outages throughout the Yung’an system,” Ho said. “It was a logical guess.”

Hadrian relinquished control of the raft with exhausted relief, falling back against the seat of his cockpit. Black danced at the corner of his vision before it covered everything ....

~~

His head was still groggy from the aftermath of the battle. Hadrian was drained, both physically and mentally, and even the slightest movement was beyond him. 

He would never admit it, but he was glad to be ensconced on a hospital bed at the moment.

He thought of the battle. It was a hard-won victory, but Hadrian didn’t feel celebratory. The toll had been gruesome: two frigates and their crews lost, a psion from his own Clan dead, not to mention the numerous injured and the researchers who hadn’t manage to evacuate when the androids took over the space monitor. 

Some did escape but were caught in the melee. Only two ships had reached safety: a small shuttle with only a dozen who had made it onboard, and Lord Julius’ fighter. Hadrian’s father’s Familiar had been the one to land on surface and summon reinforcements. 

Hadrian thought of the stag carrying his father’s body in her horns. The image seared into him; it still appeared against his lid even when Hadrian closed his eyes. 

Hadrian didn’t think he would even come to terms with how he felt. The relief and guilt at the relief would always remain with him. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“I brought you some food,” Antony said, entering the room with a tray. “I suspect they haven’t given you anything edible.”

Hadrian gave a small chuckle. “No, not really. Just nutrients in the IV.”

“Well, I brought some of your favorites. And tea. Tea is always good. You can drink tea, right?”

“I don’t see why not,” Hadrian said, charmed by Antony’s solicitous hovering. “It’s my head that hurts, not my stomach.”

Antony frowned. “Don’t joke about that. You know brain damage affects everything.”

“The medics already ascertained I don’t have any brain damage.” Almost, but not quite. They told Hadrian if he had stayed in the Familiar psi-scape any longer, lasting trauma would have resulted.

“All the same.” Antony hesitated. “Maybe we should listen to the experts.”

“Antony Cheung, if you take that tray away and make me eat hospital food, I swear I will— “

“What?” Antony’s lips curved upwards. Mischief returned to his eyes. “Throw your pillow at me?”

Hadrian did just that. 

“Can you bring that back?” he called after. “The bed is lumpy and awful to lie on without it.”

Antony obliged. “You know, you really shouldn’t be exerting yourself. You’re allowed to relax, you know. You did do the impossible and create a psionic mind web that exceeded the limit of what is sustainable.”

“Yes.” Hadrian pondered that. Though agonizing, what Hadrian had done was a promising new avenue in Familiar node-connection research. There were so many unanswered questions. The medics and shrinks had examined him, but they could no better come up with an explanation for what happened than Hadrian could. 

They sat in companiable silence, the sound of Antony sipping his tea puncturing the stillness while Hadrian stared at the wall.

“It will work out,” Antony said gently.

“What?”

“Everything. The Convocation session, your father’s funeral, your brother coming here….”

“My brother’s coming here? When?” They were aboard the Cheung’s battleliner. It seemed to be the vogue to have a battleliner nowadays. Not only one, but two or even three – an impressive fleet had shown up to aid them against the space monitor. Part of the forces were the system Space Command, but the majority were from Fragrant Orbital. 

“As soon as possible after he’s assumed temporary command over all your father’s roles,” Antony said. He added hesitantly: “I wasn’t aware of my father even having a battle fleet, let alone such an impressive one.”

It was a reflection of Hadrian’s reaction in the aftermath of his own father rescuing the defenders at the siege of Fragrant Orbital. Hadrian had not been aware either that Lord Julius had gathered a force capable of combating the current regime. 

It was ironic how history repeated itself. The time and resources spent to arming oneself beyond what was usually needed for simple defense often signaled deeper ambitions. Did Antony really not know?

Was that why Hadrian’s own father had raced to create an army of super soldiers? 

“I really didn’t,” Antony said, meeting Hadrian’s eyes. “I’ve taken over much of the day-to-day management of the Cheung’s off-station interests and I’ve never even seen any indication of it.”

“It’s not hard to hide if you know what to do,” Hadrian said, both as a concession and as an apology. It really wasn’t, not with skilled cydevs and determination. A bit of subterfuge and sleight of hand with one’s intent helped as well. “And I’m glad your father had the foresight. Otherwise, we’d be dead.”

“Don’t talk like that,” admonished Antony. “Not even as a joke. You’re going to have a very long, very fulfilling life ahead of you.” He grinned at Hadrian. “Who else is going to put up with me?”

“True.” Before Hadrian could say anything else, two more people came in.

Antony’s acolytes, Marcus and Gaius, walked towards them. Marcus had a tray of food and Gaius carried a handheld with buzzing every few seconds.

“This is for you,” Marcus said, laying the tray down on the bed. He spoke grudgingly, but gone was the hostility that characterized their previous interaction.

Antony laughed. “I already brought some food for him.”

“Yes,” Marcus said. “But sir, knowing you, you’ll probably eat everything before Master Hadrian even has a chance to taste anything.”

Hadrian laughed. Marcus was correct: half of what Antony had brought were already gone, most of them disappearing into Antony’s mouth. 

“Thank you,” Hadrian said while Antony glared ineffectually at Marcus. Hadrian took a bit of the egg tart, savoring the flaky crust. 

“It’s made by the cooks onboard,” Marcus said. “Not the stale kind of food you usually get on spaceships.”

Hadrian was impressed, both by the quality of the pastry and the fact Marcus had taken the effort to bring it to him.

Marcus looked at Hadrian dourly. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because Master Cheung asked me to. He was worried about you.”

“That’s kind of him. Please give him my thanks when you see him next,” Hadrian said. “Tell him I’m perfectly fine.”

Gaius looked up from his handheld. “That’s probably going to be a while. The space monitor caused a great deal of disruption in the system. There wasn’t any physical damage to the human settlements, but the jammers broke up a lot of the transmissions that weren’t done through Familiar nodes.” He looked at Hadrian curiously. “How did you manage to do what you did, sir? I’ve never heard of anyone managing to patch more than four psion links together.”

Hadrian rubbed his temples. The very memory of it right now made his head ache.

“Are you alright?” Antony pounced on him immediately. “Are these two bothering you? If you need me to remove them, I’ll do so.”

Hadrian shook his head, hiding his smile at Marcus and Gaius’ indignant faces. “No, it’s alright. I think they came here to see you, didn’t they?”

“We have paperwork for you, sir,” Gaius said, addressing Antony. “The deal with the Lees and the Consortium, for example ….”

“Ah.” Antony took the handheld. “I’m glad you two conducted the negotiations so well in my absence.” He scribbled something with his finger. “I’ve trained you two well.”

“Thank you, sir. Master Cheung wants to see you when you’ve a moment,” Marcus said. He glanced at Hadrian. “Alone.”

Hadrian cocked an eyebrow at Marcus. “Sounds ominous.”

“Sorry.” Marcus did sound genuinely apologetic. “That was what he said.” 

“It’s fine.” Hadrian tried not to dwell on it, ignoring the different scenarios that ran through his head. “I think I need to take care of my own business anyways.” 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m here to see my brother.”

The acolytes stood, almost jumping at Xander entering the room. Antony remained sitting but inclined his head to acknowledge Hadrian’s brother.

“Master Xander,” Gaius stammered. “It’s an honor to meet you. How are you finding – I mean how do you find your visit so far?”

Hadrian was sure Xander would respond with a cool nod, but Xander broke into a gentle smile. 

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “Very impressive, this battleliner. It’s good work you’re doing here.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Gaius said. He twisted the folds of his robes nervously. “It’s an honor – I mean – I’m honored to meet you –”

“It’s an honor to meet you too,” Xander replied, with an amused expression. “If you don’t mind, I would like to speak to my brother privately.”

“Of course.” With a final nervous bow, Gaius and Marcus left the room.

Xander looked at Antony. “Privately means alone,” he said pointedly. 

Hadrian looked at Antony. “It’s alright,” he mouthed.

With a final look at the both of them, Antony stood and departed. 

“Protective, isn’t he?” Xander said. He remained standing. 

Hadrian didn’t feel he would be in danger with his brother, but he wasn’t sure what his brother wanted. Their father’s death weighed heavy on his brother, Hadrian could tell. Xander had been closer to their father, as much a confidant as anyone could be. He must blame Hadrian. 

“I don’t,” Xander said, almost gruffly. He was still, but turmoil radiated off of him in waves. “I spoke to Father’s Familiar. She told me everything.”

“She did?”

“Yes. From start to finish. About the program, about you – everything.”

Hadrian should have felt relieved, but there was only a deep-rooted weariness in his bones. “I see.”

They remained like that for a while, quietly staring at each other. 

Then Xander smiled. “We’re not a talkative family, are we?” 

That broke the tension. Hadrian broke into a tentative laugh. “I guess not. What did you want to see me about?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” Xander said. “You’re my little brother, and I can’t help but feel responsible for everything that happened. I know –” he raised a hand to stop Hadrian from responding, “– we disagree on a lot, including what our father has done. But we’re family in spite of that.”

“Yes.” There was no point in holding onto his bitterness. It hurt too much to keep. Not letting it go would only allow it to fester, poisoning him from the inside. “But I’m well. As well as anyone can expect under the circumstances.” Hadrian looked at his brother. “What about you? You’re the Clan Head now. How will you proceed on the father’s old policies?” That was partly why the Convocation was convened. With the death of their leader, the psions needed to come together and select a new one. If this experience in power had taught them anything, it was that for the sake of their unity, someone had to be vested with the authority to speak for them. 

“I’m going to vote to abolish the position of Preceptor,” Hadrian’s brother said. “I think it would be best if our leader was elected by the Convocation, one ultimately answerable to them. And maybe, one day the commoners will be able to participate in the Convocation too.”

“That’s very progressive of you.” Hadrian felt he knew the reason for his brother’s visit. He had suspected it was more than a sign of goodwill when Xander restored his seat to the Convocation. “And you’re here to ensure I give you my support, correct?”

Xander didn’t deny this. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Democracy? Well, this is democracy of a sort.”

Hadrian sighed. “Yes. You’re my brother. I would have supported you either way. But yes, this is what I wanted.” It wouldn’t be what their father wanted, but perhaps this was their opportunity to prove Lord Julius wrong. Only time will tell if Hadrian’s actions did good or harm. 

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Hadrian didn’t know if it were the guilt over their father’s death or if he was merely tired from fighting. In any case, he would help his brother in the Convocation. 

“There is another matter.” 

“What?” Xander’s tone immediately put Hadrian’s guard up. He should have suspected this wasn’t the limit of what his brother wanted.

“I need you to suppress the news of the space monitor and the forma program.”

Hadrian stared at his brother. “I was under the impression everyone knew already.” 

“No. Just the Lees and the Cheungs know for the moment. We need to limit the spread of the information before it becomes too damaging for us.”

“How do you expect me to do that? I can’t be expected to change the past. People have loose lips, and it isn’t as if this incident happened in a remote region of space. It happened right above the skies of the capital.”

“Master Cheung and I have already come up with a story explaining it,” Xander said. “A terrorist hijacking of one of our warships. A fringe group of radical Protectorate loyalists. It’s not a particularly elegant explanation, but it’s plausible.”

“And you want me to scrub the alternative narrative from the webs.”

“Yes.”

Hadrian’s anger rose. “Damnit, this is the exact thing that I don’t want to do anymore. And what about the other psions? How can you be sure that they haven’t spread what happened already?”

“The overwhelming majority is from our Clan,” Xander said. “Master Cheung and I are already taking steps to contact the others who might be tempted to talk.”

Hadrian understood what his brother meant. His brother had already sent agents to these other psions to either dissuade or detain them until they agreed to mouth the official line. His hands twisted the bedsheets, recalling his father’s agent Incandescence had killed. 

Hadrian locked down his mind, unwilling to allow Xander even a glimpse of his fury. But it was logical for Xander to apply pressure at the human level: that was the most stubborn — but could also be the most malleable. 

“You’re sure that no one has divulged anything to any other star system?”

Xander shook his head. Relief washed out from him. Though Hadrian had not yet promised his aid, the fact that Hadrian had turned his attention to the technical details boded well. 

“When we restored the communications, we deliberately slowed the transmissions and we’re having our devs go over every message sent through the regular channels.”

“That sounds … immensely inefficient. Don’t you have better tools of monitoring them?”

Xander broke into a smile. “Not all of us are masters of the web like you, Hadrian. I’ve seen past records of your infractions. We still use some of those spy codes.”

“You do know those aren’t my best work, considering I was caught with them.”

“Yes.” Xander shot a sideways look at his brother. He seemed amused. “That’s why I came to you for help. You’re the best.”

“You didn’t talk like this before.” Hadrian told himself he would let go of the bitterness, but some of it still seeped through. “You always thought it was a waste of time, remember?”

“We change, Hadrian,” Xander said with annoyance. “What, do you think I haven’t realized the value of your interests over the years, especially after what you’ve accomplished with them? I might be traditional in my approach but give me some credit.”

Hadrian recognized a rebuke when he heard one. “Sorry. I guess sometimes I still need a little more growing up to do too.”

They fell silent again, each uncertain of how to proceed. 

“I’ll help you,” Hadrian said finally. “I don’t think we need to let the universe know about our dirty family secrets. The past has passed: I don’t see what use exposing the truth will serve. And I have a feeling if I don’t help, you and Master Cheung will find a way to do what you want anyways.” It still surprised Hadrian Master Cheung would sanction this. But then, perhaps Hadrian’s understanding of the man equaled Antony’s knowledge of Lord Julius: superficial and filtered through the perception of others. 

“Thank you,” Xander said. “What do you plan to do?”

“Well, I can create programs that will monitor certain keywords and –”

“No. I mean what do you plan to do now that father’s dead.”

“Oh.” To hear the reality so baldly threw Hadrian. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I’m not even out of the hospital yet.”

“I understand.” Xander paused. “You’re welcome to come back to the Clanship, you know. Or Yung’an. It’s your home and I could use your help.”

“I’ll consider it.” Hadrian didn’t know if he could face returning to his old life. It seemed everything had changed. And perhaps it had. 

“I should let you rest,” Xander said. He rose from the bed. “Do you need me to bring you anything? Food? Water? Your friends?”

“No, it’s alright.” All of a sudden, Hadrian felt tired. “I think I should do what you suggested. Rest.”

“I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Later.” The door closed firmly as Xander left, and Hadrian let himself settle back onto the bed.

Sleep, when it finally came, took a long time coming.

~~ 

It didn’t take long for Hadrian to set up the connection to the Convocation session. He had elected to attend virtually, despite the battleliner literally in orbit over the Great Assembly Hall. 

The reason he gave was that the medics prohibited space travel for the moment, but in actuality, Hadrian did not want to face the thousands of psions who would be scrutinizing him. The news of his reappearance had already caused a stir, with several invitations from the other Clan Embassies arriving in his inbox. Hadrian had no desire to be the object of the evening’s entertainment or suffer the tumult of human emotion – curiosity, speculation, whispers. 

He had already managed to censor most of the rampant speculation concerning both his father’s death and the space monitor’s attack. Hadrian had even noticed a few psions engaging in the discussion on the web. He knew the rumors would never completely die out, but the intensity of the whispers would fade as time inevitably worked its effect on the memory, with some other event coming along to push this incident out of mind. 

Xander and Master Cheung had spun a tale of heroic sacrifice – Hadrian had willing gone undercover to pursue a cell of radical Protectorate loyalists, thereby vanishing for the several years he was actually in stasis. He had pursued them back to Yung’an, where Lord Julius, out of paternal love for his brave son, had joined the hunt. Tragically, Lord Julius had perished in combat against the space monitor before his Familiar and Hadrian could alert anyone else.

It painted a shiny gloss on an ugly story of conflict, personal ambition, and impulsive actions. Hadrian could think of no objections to it. But he had no desire to corroborate it further – it was another motivation to decline the social calls and hide behind the distance of technology. 

A beep indicated it was time. Hadrian angled the cam so it would hide most of the messy sheets; he still remained in the hospital bed on the Cheung’s flagship, though they had offered him guest quarters. 

A miniature projection of the Grand Assembly Hall, with its myriad of delegates appeared from the ceiling’s holoscreen. It wasn’t as breathtakingly grand, but the simulation’s detail had a certain impressiveness all of its own. 

Hadrian knew others would notice how odd it was for him to be a virtual sim, especially since everyone else — his brother, Antony, Master Cheung — would go in person. 

Had Hadrian accompanied them, he would likely find the undercurrent of interactions captivating. It was the beginning of a new era: with Lord Julius’ death, Master Cheung was now the ranking psion in the galaxy. The Lees were still the most powerful Clan, but Master Cheung’s new role and the revelation of their battle fleet altered the balance of power. Undoubtedly the other Clans would be nervously recalibrating their strategies. 

Hadrian thought politics fascinating but this uneasy new power structure touched his life on a personal level. He could foresee some of the potential conflicts brewing. Not to mention the distrust already invading his perception of Master Cheung. 

The session was interminable. Hadrian didn’t even bother spying on the other delegates, although he was pleased to find that most had not uncovered his bugs in their communications. It began with eulogy after eulogy for Lord Julius, extolling his virtues and contributions. They even included praise for Hadrian and Xander, though more subdued since they were still with the living. 

Then Xander dropped his bombshell. His box moved the center of the great amphitheater to address the Convocation. Hadrian’s monitors registered an uptick of private messages among the attendees. The ripple caused by his proposal to abolish the role of the Preceptor and reform the ruling structure of the Protectorate was apparent even through the holo. 

The maneuvering started. Confusion and consternation – as well as glee – subtly underline the debates between the representatives. Those who had invited their Familiars along engaged in that mode of conversation with others, their faces forming a plethora of expressions too abstract to understand without context. 

Some of the delegates had even tried to contact Hadrian; beeps on his console indicated supposedly secured messages as they looked at his projection in the upper wings of the Hall. Hadrian deleted them all. His image in the Convocation remained static and impassive. 

Hadrian wasn’t naïve enough to believe that his brother hadn’t prepared for this. If he looked hard enough, Hadrian bet he would find deleted traces of financial pressure, promises of favor, subtle hints of promotion. Although most of the psions had been kept in ignorance, Hadrian would likely find that enough of them had been apprised of the situation to affect the outcome. 

There were no impassioned speeches. Likely everyone was too astounded to speak. Or too busy calculating how best to profit from the situation.

A silence fevered and anticipatory fell over the hall as the Chairwoman called for the votes. As psions of the highest ranks, Master Cheung went first, followed by Xander and then Antony. If Hadrian hadn’t vanished, he would take precedence just below them. Instead, he would vote near the end. Not that it would have made a difference, since the order only served a ceremonial purpose. 

Their votes fell in line to support Xander’s proposal. When it came Hadrian, he all but jabbed his console in favor.

It passed. By a margin of two to one, with nearly a quarter of the Convocation abstaining, Xander’s bill had passed. They no longer had a Preceptor. 

It was only the start. There would be more intrigue now that a new government was to be decided. Chaos provided a ladder for the ambitious. At least there would be no wars, and the fighting limited to a small set of those eager to reap the spoils of the new order. 

Yet no matter the outcome, it would be too late to assuage the guilt Hadrian carried. He had not wanted nor had planned for such an eventuality. But then, Hadrian never had an end in mind – that was why disaster struck time and again. 

~~

It rained like the heaven itself was trying to drown the world. The overcast sky and the gloom added to Hadrian’s misery. He wished sorely that he was anywhere but here. 

Droplets of water tickled his nose, falling into his eyes while he watch the workmen inter his father’s body into the mausoleum. It was a beautiful structure, its eaves a golden curve whose brilliance was muted under the weather. 

It was newly built, an addition to the site where generations of Protectors and, before that, the Emperors of the Old Dynasty, had been buried. 

There had been a fierce argument about this: Xander had wanted his father cremated, following centuries of tradition. Master Cheung, however, argued that it would serve as a greater symbol for Lord Julius to be entombed here, along with the rest of the Empire’s rulers. It would serve to remind the Protectorate of the continuity the psion Clans provided, both to the current prosperity and to their shared past. It was odd, how they maintained the pretense they were still the Protectorate, a link to the Old Dynasty, merely ‘protecting’ the empire their fabled ancestors had left behind. 

Hadrian did not care either way. His father was dead, and these funeral arrangements, much as it was couched in language about honoring the deceased, were made for the living. 

Hadrian had expected his father’s Familiar to be involved, but she had remained silent, almost detached in her grief. It was an odd thing, for a computer to experience such deep emotion. Then again, they were not computers, not really …. Hadrian recalled how he grieved for Incandescence’s absence, how he continued to feel her restricted movements as a void.

The stag came up to Hadrian, her sleek white hide somehow maintaining its shine even under the downpour. She would be going into sleep soon, as her Bond with her psion gradually faded with death. 

“Hello, Hadrian,” she said, her voice strong and untouched. “I hadn’t expected you to attend.”

“I hadn’t wanted to,” Hadrian confessed. 

“Your brother made you come, didn’t he?” She spoke with a twist of ironic amusement, as entertained as usual by the foibles of humans. 

“No, I came of my own will,” Hadrian said. His decision had surprised even himself. The hurt, the anger, the guilt — they were all still there. But deep within himself, Hadrian realized that his father and brother were right: they were family. They might not have seen eye to eye in life — indeed, they might have fought like enemies in life — but perhaps now Hadrian could lay those differences to rest. 

“What are your plans now?” he asked the stag. “Before you rest, I mean.”

“I think I would like to stay with him.” She indicated the mausoleum. “Perhaps watch over him. You might have hated him, Hadrian, but he was a good man. Hard, yes, but he had his qualities and flaws like everyone else.” She looked at Hadrian. “And I kept the information about the prisoners from him. 

“You did?” Somehow, Hadrian believed that. He needed to believe that. His father had given no indication that his level of involvement was higher than average, and Hadrian knew that logically, this should not absolve his moral culpability, but it did. 

“I managed most of the android program without his knowledge,” the stag said with a defiant air. “He didn’t need to know the details. And he was doing it for the good of us all. He cared.”

“I would have liked to have seen that,” Hadrian said. He suddenly was exhausted. He thought of the way his father had so cavalierly freed Wang and gave Wang exactly what he wanted. Hadrian was too tired for the anger to do anything but simmer. “He’d shown it to Xander. But I don’t think I will ever be able to see him as anything but the way I remember him. And now it’s too late.”

“Yes,” the stag said. She didn’t speak another word, only gave a bow with regal finality. Hadrian returned it. He knew he would likely never meet her again after this, and that she would never forgive him for the role he had played in his father’s death. A chord of regret strummed inside him: he would have liked to understand his father better, but Hadrian supposed it would never be through the stag. 

He watched at her as she entered the mausoleum and disappeared from his sight. 

“You can take an umbrella, you know.” Antony appeared, holding one over Hadrian with a slight frown. 

“Lees don’t behave so plebeian,” Hadrian said. He was still thinking about his father’s Familiar and her revelation. She had no reason to lie, even more so now that she was seeing Hadrian for the last time. Hadrian wrestled with the implication of her words. “Xander didn’t use one either, if you haven’t noticed.”

“True, but he’s in better shape than you. You should take better care of your health. You don’t want to make this into a funeral for two.” Antony realized how he sounded and flushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so flippant. I know this must be difficult for you.”

Hadrian placed a hand on Antony’s arm. “You being here makes a difference.” They followed the train of mourners that were leaving the gravesite. He didn’t look back. Likely, he would never know the entire truth, or understand the situation as comprehensively as he wished. Did that matter anymore? It was over – for Hadrian, his role in this whole sorry saga had finished.

“What are your plans?” Antony asked. “I feel like I asked this before, but I feel like something’s changed.”

It has. Or perhaps nothing’s changed. Hadrian didn’t know, except that weariness grinded down, heavier than iron fetters. 

“I think I’m going to take a trip,” Hadrian said. “Somewhere away from here. From all this,” he waved a hand to encompass everything. “I realized I haven’t been to many places. Or done as much as I should have.”

“You’ve done more than what many can claim to in a lifetime,” Antony said with an amused air.

“Yes, but I mean what normal people do with their lives. Things like go to the arcade, watch the sunset, see a movie. Things like that.”

“You’ve never seen a movie before?”

Hadrian glared at Antony. “You know what I mean. Don’t make fun of me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But – if you’re willing – I’d be happy to accompany you. You know, see a movie with you and all that.”

Hadrian squinted at Antony. “Don’t you have more important things to do? You know, like Heir things? Running a galactic government or a major space habitat?” It was just this morning that Antony had been appointed as the second in command of the caretaker government. Given the complex set of interests that were interested in the final details, Hadrian predicted it would be a long time before an agreement could be reached.

“I’m not going to accept it.”

“What? You can’t abandon my brother. He’ll need your help. He can’t manage all this by himself.” Xander had been installed as the head of the new administration. His brother was more than capable of handling the plotting and responsibility that came with the job, but it would ease Hadrian’s guilt at abandoning him if Antony stayed on Yung’an.

Another part of Hadrian, though, wanted Antony to be with him. Hadrian had never even considered the possibility, rejecting it out of hand as too remote. Antony’s sense of duty and his loyalty to his family made him the man that Hadrian loved. Hadrian would have never tried to change that. 

“He can manage,” Antony said. “He and my father will have their hands busy without my interfering.”

“I’d hardly call your help ‘interfering’,” Hadrian said dryly. “In any case, can you refuse?”

“I don’t see why not.” Antony looked at Hadrian evenly. “Why? What’s the matter? Don’t you want me to come with you?”

“More than anything. But I can’t let you abandon everything for me. Your place is here – with your family, with your life. I’ve already dragged you away from them once. I’m not about to do it again.” 

“I want to.” Antony stopped, turned to Hadrian. “I mean it. I don’t want to part with you again. You’re part of my life, just as much as my father or my duties or Luminosity.”

Hadrian blinked hard. He touched his face. It was wet, but the rain had stopped for a while already. “I might be away for a long time,” he managed out, when he had his emotions under control.

“What kind of movie are you planning to watch?”

Hadrian laughed. Others turned at the sound. Xander glared at his brother in the distance. 

“I told you, I’m planning to travel. Explore the galaxy. There are so many places I haven’t been to, and I’ve lost so much time in stasis to see the changes that have taken place. And …” Hadrian stared ahead. The bamboos danced gently in the wind, and the hills was soft in shades of grey-green jade. “I was thinking of going to the old lab platform again. The one where the android program was carried out.” The space monitor was impossible to board now, taken away by Xander and Master Cheung. Hadrian hadn’t pressed them on the details. They would take control of the space lab soon; a communique had been sent to the Huang Station asking Darren to temporarily take charge. The lab platform was still floating in space, what was left of it. Hadrian might still be able to reactivate it and use its facilities to –

“You want to restore Incandescence’s body.” 

“Yes.” Hadrian didn’t meet Antony’s eyes. He spoke in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t use the research, but it’s my only hope. And I don’t know what else to do. I’ve salvaged enough of the information – I was going to use it to expose the program – and it seems like a good start --”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Antony said. “I understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. And if that research can help lives, starting with one, then perhaps in a way your father’s program would redeem itself. All those Familiars and lives lost because of it – maybe they could rest easier if they knew somehow, in some small way, the program helped instead of hurt others.”

“Thank you,” Hadrian said. His intentions were hardly as noble as what Antony attributed, but knowing that Antony did not condemn him for it lifted the leaden weight in his stomach.

“I’m coming with you,” Antony said. “I’m curious to make the acquaintance of this Darren you hold in such high esteem.”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Hadrian squinted at Antony. “Because if you are, I just want to say that is a ridiculous notion –”

“And I want to be with you,” Antony said. He pulled Hadrian close. “No matter where you decide to go.”


End file.
